Constant

by Lexi Ander

  Hina made a soft noise and Sohm’lan glanced up. She was not laughing outright, but there was a humorous glint in her eyes. Matsya grabbed Sohm’lan’s face and made him look back at her. She tried to click, and he obliged, exaggerating the movement of his tongue for her to watch.

  After Mestor stopped laughing, he spoke with Hina and Kryp about some of the rumors around the palace regarding the arrest of people across all occupations and financial stations. Hina asked Mestor to set out the food they brought onto a flat boulder. Sohm’lan’s stomach growled. He continued to click for the youngling as he moved closer to the food.

  Kryp gazed at the different dishes with hungry eyes. “I love trying new foods. Grandfather says I just like eating. Food is different everywhere. The Terrens’… what did they call her?” He thought for a moment before picking up a caterpillar and popping it in his mouth. “Chef. That is their word for someone who is an expert with food. Anyway, the chef shared a sauce called curry with the Galactic Imperials’ kitchens. It is excellent. I want to mix it with everything.”

  Making an appreciative noise, he grabbed more caterpillars and then used two wooden spears to scoop some seaweed sprouts into his mouth. His eyes widened and he chewed more quickly.

  Mestor offered Sohm’lan a white fish dipped in a cream sauce. He stopped the clicking to open his mouth for Mestor. Matsya, distracted by food, looked at Mestor with her mouth open as well. Mestor melted on the spot.

  “We are unsure what her diet has been,” Hina said, taking one of the small carved seats. “She has eaten small fish without hesitation and Kryp’s milk once she knew what it was. We have not attempted cooked foods. The doctors said to keep it simple for now.”

  Before Mestor could choose something for himself, Kryp scooped up more seaweed sprouts in a smaller quantity and fed it to Matsya. She closed her mouth around the offering, a green leaf sticking to her chin. Everyone watched her reaction, and when she chewed happily, they went back to their own food. Sohm’lan was amused as Kryp tasted everything before deciding Matsya could have some. Dire D’Noss took caregiving seriously and that took on a new definition as he observed Kryp with Matsya. By looking at how the two were together, one would never guess they only knew each other a half day. He wondered how Kryp would fare when they took Matsya back to Atlainticia?

  When Matsya moved from Sohm’lan to Kryp and patted his cheeks, Kryp grabbed a white cube and promptly popped it in his mouth. The more pertinent question was how would Matsya fare if taken away from Kryp?

  Mestor was also watching the youngling interact with Kryp, and when he met Sohm’lan’s gaze, he said, “Kryp needs to return home with us. Matsya is comfortable with him, which is amazing considering how she came to us. For that reason alone I would invite him, but as I watch them, Kryp has bonded to her. It will hurt him to be separated from her.”

  “I agree. Do you think Kryp’s family orchestrated this diversion to keep him out of trouble?” Sohm’lan asked, putting his suspicions into words. “They would had to have known the impact it would have on him, understanding how caregivers grow attached to their charges. It would give them a reason to approach Valdor about allowing Kryp to stay with Matsya. If Kryp was on Atlainticia and bonded to a youngling then he would not be bouncing around the galaxy as a spy. The more important question is whether or not Valdor will allow a Dire D’Noss to become a waterfather in order to help raise a youngling?” He opened his mouth for another morsel from Mestor.

  “We will have to be careful and keep Meme and Father from delving too deeply into how a youngling became orphaned on Valespia.” Mestor looked to Kryp and Matsya with a serious frown. Sohm’lan agreed with his amor. If the emperor and empress uncovered the circumstances behind the death of Matsya’s parents, they would raise the ocean bed to search for the culprits.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Mestor

  * * *

  Several days later, Mestor walked with a heavy heart out of the Hhorta wing of the palace. Sohm’lan paced on his right, close enough that their shoulders brushed with each step. On his left Kryp strode, possessively holding Matsya, who snuggled into his chest as if she had known him since her birth. Kryp sniffled and Mestor reached over, gripping the nape of his neck, giving what comfort he could.

  “Grandfather always said that being a caregiver taught him a new perspective on life. I always thought he was being philosophical. I have been a caregiver all of three and a half days and the passing of her parents has touched me like no other death has.” He glanced out of the corner of his eye at Mestor. “While with the mercenaries, we had clashes. Among Dire D’Noss, fights for dominance can turn deadly. That, along with the jobs we took where we fought raiders… among other things… Well, I am no stranger to the taking of a life.”

  If Kryp’s antennae were not stuck in the multicolored hues, they would be shaded with embarrassment or perhaps not quite shame, but it was obvious the mercenaries did things that Kryp was uncomfortable with.

  When neither Mestor nor Sohm’lan commented, Kryp pressed on as if what he had to say burned inside of him. “I know nothing about Segna or Adaro, and yet my heart hurts, and I want to weep. Matsya will not know her parents, their history or lineage. I have very little to tell her. I do not want her memory only to be of the tragedy that took them from her.”

  “We will find people who knew them. Perhaps there are personal possessions that can be retrieved for her,” Mestor said wondering how they would find out more since Segna was not Mar’Sani.

  “Grandfather said he would speak to Emperor Valdor today about allowing me to continue to be Matsya’s caregiver. Do you think your father will allow it?” There was a quiver in Kryp’s voice that had Mestor pulling him closer as they walked. They strode past beautiful waterfalls without really seeing them. Despite the splendor of Haven, Mestor was ready to return home.

  “I honestly do not know,” he finally answered, wishing he could say yes. “We have never had something like this happen before. I thought you wanted to be a spy for your grandfather. Did you not say you are too young to be a caregiver?”

  Kryp was quiet for a long while. Sohm’lan navigated them through the thickening crowds, and Mestor put Kryp between them in case strangers jostled past their guards. He did not like the hard stares directed at Kryp. The report about the Dire D’Noss mercenary troop attempting to pirate The Gorgon in order to recapture the Fal’Amoric royal family had hit the news. Some people ignored the fact that the guild was not responsible for that troop’s actions, or that not all Dire D’Noss were a part of the illegal actions. They only wanted someone to pay publicly, innocent or not, just as long as it was a Dire D’Noss. A decades-old report that resurfaced about the Bespoken’s disappearance from Knossos following a raid by Dire D’Noss and Quell only cemented a growing popular belief of a conspiracy.

  More than one person attempted to squeeze between the Monticore to get closer and were startled when they were forcefully moved when Mestor helped to shove them away. It was not until that moment that people noticed Mestor’s silver circlet that proclaimed his status as prince. He ignored their bewildered expressions. They were all small-minded and short-sighted, herd animals led around by their noses. He sneered at every one who dared meet his gaze.

  Sohm’lan was clearly at the end of his patience. He stopped and glared at the thickening crowd, many gawking, expecting violence. “I wonder if Emperor Cyprian is aware of the—” Sohm’lan pointed a longer, sharp-tipped finger at a Ryden who had noisily drawn in a sharp breath to hock mucus at them. “If you open your mouth, I will tear out your tongue.” The Ryden’s beautiful lavender skin darkened to an unattractive ruddy hue. “Then I will haul your useless carcass before the Galactic Emperors so you can explain why you spit on Prince Mestor Vondorian of Atlainticia and the grandson of the Overlord Wrik Brouq’yd’Se.”

  The Ryden’s face scrunched in distaste as they swallowed what they held in their mouth. Their anger was palpable when they inhaled to reply. Whether
it was to apologize or argue, they never found out. Two tall Chi-Lin females waded through the crowd; one wore the broach that identified her as a councilmember.

  “Althea Orde,” Councilmember Rheax Omphalox purred. Mestor knew the stare of an apex predator when he saw one. Sohm’lan stepped closer to him; the motion allowed the councilmember to pass by, but was also a move that placed Sohm’lan in the perfect position to move him and Kryp out of danger. If Councilmember Rheax noticed, she gave no indication, her attention not wavering from the now cringing Ryden.

  “Does Elus know you are inciting violence?” Councilmember Rheax slowly prowled around Althea Orde, her knee-length white mane swaying in one long braid behind her.

  The councilmember was short for a Chi-Lin. Most averaged around Madux Manx’s height of two point seven meters. Rheax was almost considered diminutive by her people at two point two meters tall. Her robes were modest hues of tans and creams, clinging to her lithe figure and complementing her dark skin and red-gold rosettes. Her green gaze snapped with cool ire.

  Althea Orde bristled, the Ryden’s willowy form suddenly looking angular next to Councilmember Rheax. “I have not lifted a hand against any nor have I spoken words that would spur others to—”

  Councilmember Rheax lifted her hand, eyes narrowing. “Do not lie to me when I have been watching you and your courtiers for the last hour. I wondered why you had runners outside the Hhorta wing when Councilmember Elus does not have business with them at this time.”

  The palace guards, who no one had noticed intermixed among the crowd, moved to take custody of several Ryden, Asani, and Ice Trans.

  “You were waiting for Kryp Brouq’yd’Se, but you did not anticipate that he would be in the company of Prince Mestor.” She dismissed Althea Orde’s sputtered denials with a negative wave. “Guards, you can take them in for questioning. I do not care if the Ryden councilmember wants them released, they will be held until the council convenes to hear evidence against these people.”

  Mestor decided Councilmember Rheax was scary in more ways than just her mere presence. To be held until seen could be a very long time with all the upheaval Valespia had experienced the last couple of weeks.

  The guards took away more than twenty people. If Councilmember Rheax was correct and Kryp had been alone, then he could have come to serious harm. Mestor made sure Kryp remained between him and Sohm’lan. A few quick hand signals to the Monticore ensured Kryp and Matsya would be watched closely and be the first to be taken to safety if they were assaulted.

  Councilmember Rheax’s fiery green gaze took in the gawkers and within moments, the corridor was empty of everyone but them. “My apologies.” She smiled toothily. The expression and her humanoid features reminded Mestor so strongly of Zeus that he almost took a step back. “With the discovery of the spy who helped the V’Saar and Terrens lay siege to Valespia, the members of the Council of Neighn have been watching for strange behavior. We believe that one person would need a network of co-conspirators to accomplish what they did, people who passed on information we councilmembers held close and only confided to our closest assistants.”

  Mestor shifted, his tail tapping Sohm’lan’s. Why was Councilmember Rheax telling them this? Everyone knew the spy had been captured during the siege and that people across all walks of life from janitors to merchants to people of privilege had disappeared. Whispers and rumors said they had been taken from their homes and or business by palace security and had not been heard from since. News about it had dried up completely, leaving people speculating wildly.

  Councilmember Rheax glanced at Kryp’s arms protectively wrapped around the youngling and the color of his antennae. “Drosl said Overlord Wrik had sent you to help the Atlainticians.” Her smile broadened. “I wonder if he knew how quickly you would become attached to a kit not of your species.”

  “One does not have to look like a Dire D’Noss for me to care,” Kryp snapped. Mestor grasped his nape, cutting off what was sure to be an indignant, heated speech.

  “Thank you for stepping in when you did,” Mestor hurried to say, unsure if Kryp would follow his cues.

  “It was for the best that I saved their lives. Though I would have loved to watch the Monticore wipe the tiles with those pinched faces, my personal desires had to be set aside for the good of all.”

  “Mother,” admonished the second Chi-Lin who was a head taller than Councilmember Rheax. “They do not know you well enough to know you are joking… mostly.”

  “Prince Mestor. Warlord Sohm’lan. Kryp, this is my personal assistant and daughter, Hestiax.” Pride and fondness lit Councilmember Rheax’s expression. Again, Mestor was reminded of Zeus.

  Hestiax was an impressive height, easily closer to the stature of the one-eyed Giantes. She wore short robes revealing golden skin and dark rosettes. Her sun-colored mane was bound in many tiny braids. “You have a private meeting with Emperor Valdor in half an hour.” Hestiax’s green eyes were the same shade as her mother’s.

  “Would you mind if we accompany you?” Councilmember Rheax asked Sohm’lan. “If you are heading to the Atlaintician Wing that is.”

  “We are. We would be happy for you to join us,” he replied.

  As they walked to his parents’ quarters, Mestor traded polite, inane banter with the councilmember, all the while wondering why he was seeing pieces of Zeus in the Chi-Lin. His father had arranged for Councilmember Rheax to meet with Zeus and evaluate his abilities. Chi-Lin were strong psionics. Perhaps that was what he saw.

  At the entrance to the wing, he waited while the guards verified that Councilmember Rheax and Hestiax were indeed expected.

  His parents’ suite was located at the very end of the corridor. The number of Monticore in the seating arrangements along the walls told him the whole family was there. Sohm’lan went in first with two Monticore. Mestor waited next to Kryp. He had never seen the Dire D’Noss look so on edge. When the Monticore returned, Sohm’lan opened both doors and welcomed Councilmember Rheax. Mestor brought up the rear, surprised by the level of noise and number of voices.

  The receiving room was large enough for meetings of a moderate size. The large four-meter-high doors to their poolroom were wide open. His father was nearby, speaking with two Dire D’Noss and Kryp made a startled noise. Mestor scowled, not sure if he should put a protective arm around Kryp and Matsya or if he should just tell his Father that Kryp was coming home with them. The statement would put Kryp out of his misery.

  Councilmember Rheax crossed and greeted the three while Hestiax took up a position by the doors.

  “I cannot believe how upset I am,” Kryp whispered to Mestor. “I spent two Galactic Standard years gathering information and risking my life, but the thought that they are going to take Matsya away terrifies me more than being shot at.” His antennae curled until they touched his hairless skull. His powder-white skin took on a gray hue. Matsya, who had been sleeping, woke as if in tune with Kryp’s rising emotions. She hiss-clicked as Sohm’lan had taught her, looking around worriedly.

  “Kryp, come let me see this youngling that caused your antennae to change color.” Mestor recognized the speaker from the holo-vid as Overlord Wrik Brouq’yd’Se.

  Big-bodied, the Overlord dwarfed Kryp, making him look like the youngling that Mestor sometimes saw him as. Standing next to the Overlord was Seclord Drosl Brouq’yd’Xe. ‘Xe indicated they did not identify as male or female. Councilmember Drosl watched Kryp approach, and there was immense power in their assessing gaze. Did all councilmembers have that pin-the-prey-to-the-wall look? Come to think of it, even little Hina had acquired that expression when the Kracciam prodded Kryp too much when he was in the water.

  Kryp shared a slight resemblance to his caregiver, who had a hardened chitinous exoskeleton on their shoulders that was not hidden under robes but displayed with pride. Councilmember Drosl’s pale skin was more yellow than white, but their blue eyes were large and the same shade as Kryp’s.

  Caregivers and offspring we
re not usually biologically related, but with how the overlord was changing Dire D’Noss culture, perhaps the more recent generation was keeping their young after weening. If Kryp was of Councilmember Drosl’s bloodline, perhaps they and the overlord worried Kryp would fall back into the old Dire D’Noss culture of violence, and that was the reason they sent Kryp to help Matsya. Getting him away from negative influences and giving him a purpose might override his desire to spy for his grandfather.

  Overlord Wrik reached for Matsya and Kryp’s upper lip lifted slightly, barely revealing his sharp teeth. Mestor thought Kryp would snap at the overlord’s fingers, but at the last moment he shifted the youngling to the overlord’s waiting hands. The smug satisfaction in Overlord Wrik’s gaze was not for Matsya, who he cooed at. Kryp fluttered around his grandfather and Councilmember Drosl like a butterfly unable to find a perch as they passed the youngling between them. It was obvious Kryp wanted to snatch her away and his family ignored him and his rising anxiety.

  Mestor frowned. Their antics were cruel. Were they not the ones who sent Kryp to a youngling hoping his biology would create a bond? Now that they had confirmed their plan was successful, they were brushing aside his rising discomfort. Dire D’Noss caregivers were legendary for their unending patience and protectiveness of the young in their charge. Kryp had bonded with Matsya, and her to him judging by how she craned her neck to keep him in view. She squirmed to get back to him, and Kryp’s family only avidly watched the two of them.

  Just as Mestor was ready to take Matsya from them and give her back to Kryp, Valdor made a motion. When he turned to see what his father had signaled, Sohm’lan was speaking back with his hands. The overlord and councilmember were proving to Valdor how Kryp and the youngling were bonded. Kryp had said his grandfather would be asking Valdor to allow him to remain Matsya’s caregiver and now Valdor watched closely. Mestor had kept his father apprised of the fading of a mated pair and their surviving youngling, as well as how the Dire D’Noss had helped to keep the youngling from following her parents. A family pod was usually found for orphans, but it was unprecedented how Matsya had taken to Kryp.