by Wen Spencer
Eldest cursed softly. “Oh, Jerin.” She looked down at the letter still in her hand. “This is a shining coin, Jerin. You'd be presented as an equal to all the nobles in the land. We could never match this again. If we refuse this, we only have common country bumpkins, the likes of the Brindles, to choose from.”
“Holy Mothers, no!” Then, fearing she misunderstood, he caught her wrist and said as clearly as possible, “I do not want to marry the Brindles! I hate them! They're like rabid dogs!”
“I wouldn't give you up to someone who would hurt you.”
“They might not turn on me, but it's nearly a sure thing that I'd have to watch my children grow up to be just as mean. People are saying Balin tumbled his mothers to father his sisters. It's not like the Brindles would tell us, if it was the truth; we'd have to wait until after the marriages to know for sure, and then it would be too late, at least for me. Besides, they say apples only come from apple trees; the family might have practiced incest for generations now. They all could be inbred monsters.”
A smile quirked onto Eldest's mouth. “Well, it would explain why they're all so gods-awful ugly.”
“Eldest, please, please, don't make me marry them!”
“I'm not asking you to. We're invited to the palace, remember?” Eldest rumpled his hair. “Quite frankly, Jerin, I'd rather marry a pig than Balin Brindle. I don't understand what Corelle sees in him. He's a smug, ugly little thing, and his sisters have always made my skin crawl. I'd hate to have a houseful of children that looked like them.”
Jerin giggled.
Eldest held up the Queens' letter. “Will you do this?”
“It's not like I don't want to marry. I just want to be picky!” He winced as he realized he was whining. He tried a more adult tone. “I want a family of clean breeding, one that doesn't fight, well, at least no more than we do, and—and ten to fifteen wives at the most. None of this thirty wives or more! Mothers above. I'd feel like a whore! I'd have a different woman every night for a month mounting me.”
She laughed a moment, then gazed sadly at him. “I hadn't thought of the Brindles in quite that way. I'm glad that we're able to afford more than one husband. I'd hate it if I had to wait a whole month for one night of pleasure, and only twelve chances a year to catch a baby. Years go quickly when measured in twelve days. I don't have many years left before my time of change comes.”
“I didn't think you'd like having babies.”
Eldest shrugged. “I'd like to have at least one, to see what it was like. Our mothers seemed so miserable pregnant—puking in the morning, bloated up like something dead left in the sun too long, and waddling around like a force-fed goose.” After the birth of thirty siblings. Eldest could mimic the walk quite well, making Jerin giggle. “I don't know why anyone would want to live through it. Yet, at times, it seems like that's when they were the happiest. They'd get that smug, satisfied smile, and practically glow.” She reflected a moment, and then nodded. “I think one baby will be enough to leave me content, more than happy for my sisters to bear the rest.”
They fell silent.
Eldest took out the letter and read it silently once more. “It's a shining coin, tossed up in the air for us, and all we have to do is reach out and catch it.”
“Let's catch it, then.”
Surprisingly, Captain Tern came down for dinner in her dress uniform, boots polished to a gleam, her chest covered with medals. Tucked under one arm, she carried a long leather case that the Whistlers had missed in their excitement for the letter.
She spoke quietly with Eldest, who nodded soberly, then called the family to standing attention.
“Heria.” Eldest motioned for her to come forward.
“Me?” Heria startled and, with a worried frown, pushed back her chair to come around the table to where Eldest and Raven stood.
Captain Tern snapped open the catches of the case, opened the lid and held it out to Heria. “Their Royal Majesties. Queen Mother Elder and her royal sisters, have charged me this duty. As a duly appointed representative of their royal will, I present this gift to you in thanks for saving Princess Odelia. Please accept this honor for your selfless courage.”
“Holy Mothers!” Heria's eyes went round in surprise, and she whispered, “They're beautiful!”
She took the case and turned so her family could see. An engraved rifle and matching pistols lay in the case, each in a compartment lined with velvet. There was a moment of stunned silence, and then a roar of approval.
After several minutes. Eldest called for order, had Heria put up the gun case, and commanded the family to dinner. Everyone sat, but, with the exception of baby Kai and little Liam, ignored the food, gazing expectantly at Eldest and Raven.
Eldest broached the subject as it became apparent that no one was going to eat until the course of the future was plotted. “I've talked to my sisters. We're going to accept the Queens' offer. We haven't decided who will go.”
This triggered cries of “Take me, take me” from all the youngest. The middle sisters looked silently wistful, except for a sullen Corelle, who was still in extreme disfavor and unlikely to go.
“We haven't decided,” Eldest repeated firmly. “We expect our mothers any day. I would feel better if they were here before I left with any of my sisters. I'm leery of leaving the farm shorthanded of adults.”
Captain Tern nodded. “I have business in Heron Landing. We're still trying to find the Prophets. I'm checking back with the Queens Justice to see if any more information has surfaced on the thieves.” Raven glanced meaningfully to Jerin. “I thought you would need a few days before sending your brother out to be married.”
With a sudden ring of silver on china, Doric dropped his fork on his plate. “Jerin won't be coming back, will he? Once he goes off to get married?”
“I'll be back,” Jerin said with careful cheerfulness. “It will be just like our cousins. You'll see me from time to time.”
“I don't want Jerin to go away like Papa did!” Bunny, the littlest of the youngest sisters, suddenly wailed.
“Papa died, honey.” Jerin reached across the table to pat her. “I'm not going to die. I'm just going to live at someone else's house.”
“No!” Bunny cried, ducked under the table, and scrambled up into his lap. “I don't want you to go!”
It triggered a wave of crying little girls. Most of the youngest over five years old managed to contain themselves. The three and four-year-olds, though, could not be consoled.
He hugged them, four and five to an armful, rocking them. “Hush, hush, this is a wonderful day for the Whistlers. We shouldn't be crying. We should be happy and celebrating.” The words were like ash in his mouth, but to show his own pain would only make his little sisters unhappier. “I know—let's forget about dinner and make ice cream and cake.”
“Ice cream?”
“Cake?”
“Maple ice cream and pound cake,” Jerin said firmly. “Come on, let's go into the kitchen and start making them.”
“You'll have to excuse the family,” Eldest murmured to Captain Tern as Jerin herded the sniffling girls toward the kitchen. “We lost our father early this spring, and our mothers have been gone several weeks. The little ones are fragile at the moment.”
Captain Tern waved away the apology as unnecessary. “They're just babies. They seem to love their brother well.”
“Jerin has lots of patience with them,” Eldest said.
“Patience is invaluable in a husband,” Captain Tern said. “Children need a nurturing hand to grow them into strong women. His wives will be lucky. Tell me, how did your father die so young? Heart failure?”
“No, no, it was an accident.” Eldest sighed. “He slipped on icy steps and fell. He struck his head…”
Jerin was glad when the kitchen door swung closed, shutting off that quiet conversation. Tonight would not be a good time for him to have those wounds opened by the recounting of their father's prolonged death.
Capt
ain Tern rode out after a breakfast of dinner leftovers, promising to return at dusk. Jerin waited until his youngest sisters were deeply entrenched in their morning chores before he started to pack; there was no need to give them fresh reminders that he was leaving.
His wedding chest would go with him. He took everything out and repacked it carefully for the trip, mindful it would be shifted and possibly dropped. He used his wedding linens to pad the bone china tea set his mothers had bought for him on his twelfth birthday. There would be no way to foretell the quality and wealth of his future wives, his mothers had stated as he'd unwrapped the expensive gift, but his children should be raised with manners befitting the blood of the Queens. At that time, his grandfather, Prince Alannon, and two of his thieving spies of grandmothers were still alive, and they laughed until tears came to their eyes.
He kept out three of the silver engraved spoons stolen from the Castle Tastledae, and three of four tintypes he had of Prince Alannon. These he divvied into his younger brothers' wedding chests so they each would have something from their royal grandfather. Another generation or two, and there would be nothing to share out but memories.
He took only his best clothes, leaving behind his work clothes for Doric. Lastly he packed the items about his room that he wanted to keep, leaving only his quilt out, to be added on the day he left.
He sat staring at the now stark room. What was he forgetting?
His birth certificate!
The family records box sat in the corner of the parlor, firmly locked against little fingers. The key was kept on the high trim piece of the window beside it. Jerin no longer had to stretch to reach the key, which surprised him.
The first piece of paper was the death certificate for their father. Jerin set it quickly aside. Under it was baby Kai's birth certificate, which Jerin lingered over to erase the jolt of pain that the death certificate had put through him.
Kai Whistler, male child born to Bliss Whistler and fathered by husband Tullen Beadwater from Bowling Green. Grandchild of Nida Whistler and husband Alannon (ancestry documented but uncertified). Great-grandchild of Kei Whistler & Order of the Sword crib captive named Gerard, #458. Great-great-grandchild of Allysen Whistler & Order of the Sword crib captive Kyle, number unknown. No other lineage known.
A family copy, it was stamped and sealed with reference numbers of where the original was stored. Also indicated was where the marriage records for their mothers and grandmothers could be found.
Jerin leafed down through the birth certificates, layered youngest to oldest, till he came to his own.
Jerin Whistler, male child born to Mother Elder Whistler and fathered by husband Tullen Beadwater from Bowling Green. Grandchild of Tea Whistler and husband Alannon (ancestry documented but uncertified). Great-grandchild of Jo Whistler & Order of the Sword crib captive named Harrid, number unknown. Great-great-grandchild of Mother Elder Whistler & Order of the Sword crib captive, name and number unknown: tattoo initial of T. No other lineage known.
If not for their father and grandfather, Jerin suddenly realized, he wouldn't be blood related to Kai at all. He thumbed through the others, noticing for the first time how odd his family was once all the bloodlines were assembled. His ten grandmothers were divided among five crib fathers, and no two shared the same birth mother. None of his great-grandmothers represented by their surviving daughters even shared the same crib fathers; they seemed to be nine strangers sharing a family name.
Lifting out the records of his mothers' generation, he studied his grandmothers' papers underneath. They were dog-eared, much folded, and largely incomplete. One even had an elaborate map inked on its back. The birth certificates recorded birth mother and father, and most had a birth grandmother named. Often for grandfather, the records stated, “Order of the Sword crib captive, initial designation,” and this varied from grandmother to grandmother, and then a general time period of years was noted.
Among the grandmothers' papers was one crisp sheet, obviously carefully protected. It declared that the ten Whistler sisters married one Alannon, pedigree lines waived as the groom was war plunder and verbal questioning indicated no crossbreeding.
Too bad he hadn't thought to show Princess Rennsellaer this. She seemed interested in his grandfather. Biting his lip on bitter thoughts that wanted to crowd in, he placed all the documents back into the box, and locked it tight.
Their twelve mothers arrived after lunch, while middle sisters tended the back pasture fence. The youngest reached their mothers first and shouted news at the top of their lungs. Even from the kitchen where he was kneading bread, Jerin could hear cries of “Heria got a rifle from the Queens!” and “Jerin and Eldest are going to Mayfair! Can I go too?” Jerin covered the dough to rise, washed his hands, and went out to welcome them home.
Mother Elder was sitting up on the buckboard's seat, stranded there by a wailing Bunny on her lap, trying to listen to all her children at once. “Quiet! Hush! Eldest, what in Mothers' name is going on?”
“Princess Rennsellaer's Captain Tern came to stay yesterday,” Eldest said, reaching up to free Mother Elder of Bunny. Eldest passed the little girl to Mother Dia, and then gave Mother Elder a hand down. Mother Elder had been with their father the night before his accident. When she left for Annaboro, she hadn't realized that she was pregnant, thinking her weight gain had signaled the start of menopause. Even without her letter from Annaboro, however, there was no missing the pregnancy now. The buttons of her shirt, stretched over her swollen belly, were threatening to pop, and she had a satisfied smile and glow.
“She's at Heron Landing today,” Eldest said of Captain Tern. “But she'll be back for dinner. The Queens sent an expensive custom rifle and pistols for Heria. They also offered to sponsor Jerin's coming out in Mayfair. We've accepted. Captain Tern is to escort us back to the palace. We haven't decided who will all go.”
“I want to go! I want to go!” the youngest chorused.
“Hush! None of the youngest will go!” Mother Elder said firmly. “Marriage is business only for elder and middle sisters. They'll be the only ones going.”
This was greeted with groans of disappointment.
“Now, now, we've been riding for hours to see you, so no long faces, or no one gets their presents from Annaboro.”
The horses were cared for, the supplies carried into the house, and the presents distributed, all in record time. With the youngest shooed out into the play yard with their new treasures, Jerin, his elder sisters, and their mothers settled down to discuss who would go with Eldest to Mayfair.
“It says 'with as many sisters you wish to also attend.' ” Eldest tapped the Queens' letter, folded stiff, on the table. “Harvest will start soon; we'll need almost everyone here. With Captain Tern escorting us downriver, and then us staying at the palace proper, I can't see needing to take more than two others. Which two?”
“I think we should take Summer,” Jerin said quietly.
“Summer?” Eldest looked and sounded surprised. “Why?”
Jerin blushed, ducking his head from his elder sisters' confused scrutiny. “We're not going just to get me wives, but you a husband too. It'd be a shame to pass up the chance to make an influential marriage both ways. And, well, I don't mean to slight anyone, but Summer's the prettiest.”
“What does that have to do with anything?” Birdie asked.
“Well,” Jerin said, “if your husband has any say in who he marries, then we should take the prettiest sister with us. Right?”
There was reluctant agreement from his sisters.
“Then we'll take Summer,” Eldest stated. “And who else?”
“Corelle,” Mother Elder stated.
“Corelle?” Jerin yelped in surprise as the others murmured their agreement with Mother Elder. “She's been taking favors from Balin Brindle and she left the farm unprotected. Take her? After the way she's been?”
“Especially after the way she's been.” Mother Elder said quietly. “She hasn't seen enough of t
he world, what she's giving up if she settles for Balin Brindle.”
“But Mother Elder!” Jerin cried. “It would be like rewarding her for being bad! I don't know why you let Corelle get away with things.”
“Jerin, we have four sons,” Mother Elder said, taking his hands. “We could easily split the family four ways, though we probably won't, but we certainly will be splitting at least once. Either Corelle, Heria, or Blush will be Mother Elder for the younger sisters. You can't make good decisions as an adult if you were never allowed to make any decisions while you were a child. Now is the time for Corelle to learn from her mistakes.”
“Couldn't you split the family so Summer is Mother Elder?” Jerin grumbled.
“Summer isn't strong enough. Where Corelle leads, the others follow. We only need to teach her to lead wisely.”
The middle sisters rode in shortly before dinner. Eldest met them at the paddock, pulled Summer and Corelle aside, and told them that they would be going to May-fair. The others could hear Corelle scream from all the way in the kitchen, sounding like someone was murdering her with a rusty knife.
“What did Corelle do this time?” Blush asked.
“What's Eldest doing to her?” Leia peered out the kitchen window. From there they could see Corelle, leaping up and down in the paddock, still screaming.
Heria glanced out the window and made a noise of disgust. “Corelle's going with Jerin and Eldest to Mayfair. Eldest just told her.”
“Lucky dog,” Blush muttered.
After a sleepless night that seemed to go on forever, dawn came. Jerin dressed in his loose, dun-colored walking robe, folded up his quilt, placed it in his wedding chest, and locked it tight shut. When he came down to breakfast. Eldest and Birdie went up to carry his chest out to the buckboard. Eldest. Corelle, and Summer stacked their bags on top of it.
