"I don't believe you," she said, scowling.
"As of this morning, with Lagu's Jaguar, Lion, and Tiger, I now have..." I counted in my head, "twenty-two living sons. No, 23! And one deceased son. Icarus. He sacrificed his life to save us four months ago. We named this township after him."
Gertrude stared at me. I stared back. This continued for about 10 minutes before she said, "I suppose it makes sense that the boymaker would be human, not demon."
"No! Never use that term again," I snapped. "There are no demons!"
"Er, what?"
"Every single one of us is human, whether we derive from the original race that inhabited this world or the Dimensional Travelers who stepped through 24 years ago. We are all humankind. That's our First Law here. Never call anyone a demon, and never treat them differently because of their race, unless that treatment is realistically constrained by their racial characteristics. You can't fly, but a harpy or angel can. Things like that."
She looked at me oddly. "Surely you don't believe that."
"Of course I do. Either I or my pixie sons have been able to successfully impregnate women of every race who have asked — and all you have to do is ask, by the way —whether here or in other nearby settlements. I'm guessing that's more than a dozen races, large and small. Our goal, our Goddess's goal, is to stabilize the new races by providing them with men before they die out. Together, we've impregnated hundreds of women so far. I have seven wives of six races: two succubi, one kappa, one harpy, one centaur, one giant, one olbytla. They're all pregnant. My pixie sons have impregnated pixies, a smaller vixen, olbytla, fairies, and even a Red Cap. See where I'm going here?"
She looked surprised. "If that's true, you and your sons are true bulls, taking all the females for yourselves!"
I rubbed my forehead. "With me, it was mostly my First Paramour's idea. There are over one hundred additional adult women in this settlement who are not our wives. I'm just trying to point out the wide variety of races we've proven we're interfertile with."
"And how many are pregnant by you?"
"Good point. Most of them."
We sat and stared at each other for a while. Finally, Gertrude said, "We all want little bulls. And when they're born, we want to be pregnant with more."
I raised an eyebrow. "How many is 'we?'"
"There are 36 adult females in our herd."
"How far from here?"
"Our territory ranges in a large circle from about 20 miles to over 100 miles north of here, almost into Indiahoma."
"Okay. Where's the next nearest herd?"
"Farther north in Indiahoma."
I considered for a long moment. "No," I told her. "I won't impregnate all your women."
She did her damnedest to get up and get at me. "Why not?! You must! We'll die out! We can get no more human men!"
"Terran men!" I barked. "We are all human."
She settled down, pouting. "We need our bulls. Before it's too late."
"You haven't thought this through. How long does it take a minotaur child to mature?"
"About 20 New Years."
"And if I give all 36 of you sons, who will this first crop of your sons marry in 21 years?"
She looked at me like I was an idiot. "The other mothers, of course, as they will not be closely related to them! Then they will have more sons, and go from there!"
"What about the next batch? Would your older sons share their women, let their little brothers impregnate them?"
She snorted. "Not likely. A bull doesn't share his females."
"Didn't think so. So what do they do?"
Gertrude looked uncomfortable. "We'll marry them off to the mothers of other herds in exchange for fostering their girl children?"
"That might work, but what if they've made the same deal with me? Suddenly you have lots of sons and no daughters. Another thing: what's the lifespan of a minotaur?"
"We... have no idea. None of us has died of old age yet."
"But I'll bet some of you were in your forties or fifties when you came through. That puts them at least in their late 60s with the change in the length of the year. How can you be sure you'll all live long enough to see your sons mature, much less be capable of having babies at that age?"
Gertrude's shoulders slumped as she sighed deeply and stared at the floor. "We can't."
"So here's what I propose." Her head snapped up. "We sign a treaty. You ally with Icarus Township in a mutual protection pact. Hell, you'd be welcome to become part of our... let's call it a commonwealth, because we have plans to expand, though I know you need to retain your grasslands for forage. If someone attacks you, we send troops, and vice versa. As a gesture of good will, I send you nine lovely ladies home pregnant. Then you pick nine more for me to father bulls on. I get to visit my children anytime I want, mind you, and I want to get to know them. That's one of the reasons I want the alliance. Meanwhile, I'll send terran men to your herd to make girl babies."
"They wouldn't want us," she grumbled. "We look like cattle."
I stared at her. "Are you kidding me? Have you seen how the men in town look at you?"
"They stare because we're monsters," she mumbled, slumping so low in her chair and looking so miserable that I swear to Goddess she looked like the classic Japanese Sad Girl in Snow. (I know this because one of those had already joined us.)
I shook my head, and reached across the desk, hand out, until she put her large hand in mine. "Gertrude. Look at me. Look me in the eyes, and believe me when I say they see you as anything but monsters. No man could look at such a lovely, tanned, healthy, muscular female body and think of anything but how much they want you. If anything, some of them will find your features erotic. I don't know whether this will disgust you or not, but I guarantee you that since we first captured you, many of the single men here have spilled their seed to thoughts of you and your herdmates already, and many who are married have seen you as they made love to their women. Hell, I've already had to restrain some of the faunlets, and they're female."
She stared at me, stunned, shaking her head. "Believe me, I know men," I assured her. "They'll fight for the chance to service your women and make daughters with you. That way, when the bulls grow up, they'll have girls to pair off with who they aren't closely related to. They can also fool around with the other mothers if they want. For the next round of babies, I impregnate the women who had girls the previous time, while you ladies who had bull-calves have girl-calves. We keep doing this until it looks like you have enough males to start reproducing the old-fashioned way. To help with the increased population, you can expand your territories closer to our borders, you can help clear farmlands and take the grass for forage, and you can help us keep our kill-zone around the walls clear. I'm assuming you don't actually graze; you use scythes to cut the grass, right?"
"Yes." She seemed dumbfounded. "We also hunt the antelope and the chupacabra with our spears."
"Perfect! The chupas have been giving us a lot of trouble, and we could use your flintknapping skills. I saw those huge spearheads you ladies make. So, what do you think?"
"You would truly give us bulls without asking anything in return?" she demanded.
"Not give. You would have to help me with all those things I just asked about. And we would help you with other things. We should be friends; you're the closest other group to ours most of the time."
"You're a miracle-worker!" Gertrude blurted.
"Yeah, that's what all the ladies say." I came out from behind the desk and unlocked the gopherwood shackles. "No funny business, and we'll have a treaty to send back to your headwoman within the day. Our scribe can write it up."
"No need to send it back," Gertrude said as she stood. "I'm the headwoman. Send me Hildegarde, my second, to witness this, and I'll sign it as soon as you have it written down and we've read it and discussed it."
"Excellent! I'll tell my scribe what to prepare, and you can go with me back to the Fathering Chamber at Yorkshire Castle."
>
"I can? Why?"
"So I can give you your little bull right away, as an act of good faith." I reached out and took her large hand, then leaned over and kissed it. "Do you have any idea how desirable you are? My goodness, your muscles alone are enough to make me drool, and, well, I like tall women. I just hope I'm man enough for a woman like you."
Did you know cows can blush? Not like us, though; all the fine fur on their cheeks stands up and bushes out. But I know a blush when I see one, and I have to say, I was blushing myself. I found it hard to take my eyes off Gertrude's more human parts. Impulsively, I kissed her ridged belly and said, "If you don't start wearing pants, no man in the township will be able to take his eyes off your nether regions." I lowered my voice, so she had to lean down to listen: "If that door locked, I'd be tempted to see how those lips down there feel on mine."
By then she was blushing and squirming, her own reaction a little too obvious, so I did the gentlemanly thing and loaned her my cloak to wrap around her waist. Then I led her to the next building, where my terran scribe and assistant, Tripp, and his assistant, the quetzal Valencia, held court. Tripp had recently invented a hematite-based ink that the bitty-swarms didn't bother, and it seemed to be stable enough to last for years when applied with a quill or luminium nib. I had them both take notes on the proposed treaty while Gertrude added her two cents. Whenever she did, I cast glances at Valencia, who wouldn't look at me; she hadn't asked for my fathering services yet, though I would happily have obliged her, because she was an exotic beauty. She had a rather shapely tail.
When Tripp had everything down, I told him, "Okay, Tripp, write up three copies of the treaty, keep it short, and we'll have the signing ceremony in a few hours. Meanwhile, have Keenan release Queen Gertrude's people and give them a tour of the town." I figured Keenan might be interested in being one of the herd's girl-fathers once he got an eyeful of all that lush female flesh, bovine heads or not. I continued, "Please reschedule this afternoon's ladies, with my apologies. I'll play catch-up tomorrow. Back in a couple of hours."
Tripp just looked at me with that knowing look, and started writing. Meanwhile, I took Queen Gertrude to the Fathering Chamber and negotiated in good faith.
The next day I reluctantly shaved off my fatherhood beard, as certain parts of Gertie that had fascinated me most were quite sensitive, and she was annoyed that I had given her "rug burn." Whatever that meant.
Chapter Five
When the wolfin Gemini gave birth six weeks later, I was out killing a bunch of terran bandits who had attacked a mixed group of olbytlas, cobbers, and memegwesi who were on their way to pledge fealty to Icarus Township. The fierce little women had repelled the bandits, but suffered casualties. An angel who had been traveling with them (a former psychological operative for the U.S. Army) had flown ahead to tell us what had happened, and to deliver the news that three olbytla and two cobbers were dead.
The Dixies were absolutely furious. How dare those bastards attack a peaceful group of tiny women! Especially tiny women destined to be their girlfriends! Despite my orders, the eight of them took off right away, each carrying one of the half-bricks they called "bricksies," which they had learned to drop on their targets with devastating, eagle-eyed accuracy. By the time Montana and I arrived with armswomen and supplies, including more bricksies, they'd killed three of the ten bandits and crippled most of the rest. A bricksie to the head and shoulders from fifty feet up is no joke.
Between the boys raining bricksies on their heads and my armswomen and I, we killed the rest of the bandits in about ten minutes. I am of the opinion that when someone deliberately hurts you or your family, you hurt them back so hard they can never do it again. It's a major point of our foreign policy that I make sure everyone I deal with knows. By then I was getting pretty good with the Dawn Sword, and I was pleased to see my Mountain Woman skewer the last of them from at least 100 feet away with her ballista as he tried to escape.
The Dixies, who had been harassing him, came back singing,
...Hurray, hurray!
The clowns are down, we broke their crowns,
With pinpoint falls of bricksies!
Hurray, hurray, here come the hero Dixies!...
The boys landed and began introducing themselves to the small ladies. Gration, the sentimental one, cradled one injured cobber in his arms, his eyes filled with tears, and kissed her bloody forehead. I could see the wheels turning in his mind. She was barely more than half his size, and weighed less than a bricksie...
"Fiona's hurt! I'm taking her home to Serafina!" he bawled in my general direction, and took off with her in his arms in the traditional bridal carry. In time, she did become his bride, and he never took another wife. It's amusing to watch their sons run around waving wooden swords at each other, long auburn hair wild, in remarkable contrast to their green skins. Oh, and they love to fly as much as their father, though they have no wings. Gray and his brothers took them flying when they were little, but at some point, his son Ezra sewed up a clever injured-squirrel suit they used to draw in crows and hawks, so they could bonk them on the head, capture them, and then break them to the saddle. They made great couriers, and we depended on them a lot until we finally got the telegraph lines laid.
Meanwhile, the other Dixies also carried injured cobbers back home for Sera to treat. The olbytla and memegwesi were too large for them to handle.
Dadday! Little Magic broke in so loudly and suddenly I had to clutch my head. Make sure you get all the cobbers. There are a couple of injured ones in the bushes nearby. Oh, and by the way, relief is on its way. Father Toméz has been convinced and will leave Tejico in early spring, after he, uh, ministers to the women of his city.
"Right. Thank you," I told my demigod son, and sent Hermes and Kyoop to check the bushes before they headed out. They flew off moments later with the two injured cobbers they found. As for Toméz, he's what Little Magic had been so eager to tell me about when the minotaurs attacked. Why did he always contact me during battle? I had injured olbytlas and cobbers to take care of!
Cobbers are small green people. Very small, very green. Until the day the bandits attacked the small ladies, I'd never heard of cobbers. They're an Elder World race, but they like to build boats and explore, and several batches ended up grounding on the Tejas coast in three rickety ships. I don't think I ever heard all the ship names, or I would remember, but I know one was called the Nunya. I thought that was a name from an Elder World language until years later, when Fiona told me it was short for Nunya Business. Then it made sense, knowing cobbers.
After we'd looted the bandits, which resulted in a little bit of nothing, we piled up their bodies and burned them in the middle of the River Road. I had Montana carve and erect a milepost that read "Icarus Township 14 mi" so other ne'er-do-wells would hopefully get the point.
I had so been wanting to be there when Gemini had her babies, but she'd gone into labor shortly after I left, and gave birth an hour before I got home. When I rushed into the birthing room, the midwife was just leaving. She winked at me with a broad smile, and I released my breath in a relieved sigh. As I stepped in, I found Gemini's half-grown two-year-old daughter standing beside her mother's bed, reaching into the swaddling cloths and giggling as a tiny hand grabbed her pinky.
I rushed to Gemini's side and blurted, "Are you okay?! Are the babies okay? I'm sorry I wasn't here for you!"
Gem glared at me, scowling. "Four," she said flatly.
"What? Four what?" I was, I'll admit, a bit confused.
"I've never had more than two children at a time before. This time, I've had four. Four. Big. BOYS!" Her voice pitched upward into a delighted squeal, and I couldn't help it, I hugged her impulsively. I couldn't imagine how it felt, to go from being a half-starved slave to a freewoman who had just given birth to the first boys her race had ever seen. She twitched the cloth aside to reveal three big-eyed little faces staring up at the world, tiny pink tongues poking out of the ends of their short muzzles.
They were all crazy-cute. The fourth boy was head down, nursing. He was a little blondie, like me. The other boys were brunettes, and I saw that their eyes were brown, blue, and green.
When the blondie rolled over, smacking his lips, I saw with surprise that he had ice-blue eyes. He looked absolutely striking, and I remembered thinking that if he ended up as handsome as his mother was beautiful, then he was going to be a heartbreaker. (He is.)
"Have you named them yet?" I asked Gem, who was humming a song that sounded oddly familiar.
"You don't mind?" she asked, a question I often got from the pooka ladies I made babies with.
"Of course not. You're their mother. You'll be with them most often. Though if you can't think of anything, I can help."
She hummed a little more and said, "There's this song that's been running through my head ever since I came here, off and on. It was popular when my parents were young, back on my Earth, and they often played recordings of it." She began to sing in a lovely voice: "Aaarrre you goinnnng to Scarborough Faire...?"
The Fathering Land Page 5
