by Lyn Gala
“But your status!” Zach was horrified.
“I would remain a Grandmother.” She stroked his neck. “I am not so old and experienced that my presence is required in the temple at all times. The ship will fly without me.”
Her words were logical, but the lack of arrogance made it hard for Zach to recognize his beloved Grandmother. “You don’t have eggs ready,” he said, but his voice lacked strength, like his argument.
“I have never been able to lay eggs,” she said. “However, I am patient with the errors of others, which made those who did lay eggs trust me with theirs.” Her fingers stilled against Zach’s neck. “I raised only two egglings, and one left the nest before I was ready to see him walk empty paths. I would like to raise an eggling. I would like to raise an eggling with you.”
Zack couldn’t catch his breath.
The skin around her eyes tightened. “If we find some egglings and admire them outrageously, we may tempt a female into leaving a hatchling in our path.” She tightened her hold on him for a second before she stood, offering her hand to help him up.
“All we have to do is admire egglings?” As adoption processes went, that seemed incomplete.
“A female who has too many egglings is always looking for a responsible adult to raise young ones. I am a Grandmother, and you are a palteia of the highest rank. Any female would feel blessed by the non-existent gods if we showed an interest in raising her egglings.”
Rownt did tend to live in small communities where females already knew whether others were the sort who could be trusted with children. Zach smiled slowly. He thought of watching a baby grow up over a century. Their child would still be strong and fighting for status when Zach’s body finally yielded to age. That was the way life should work. The children should outlive the parents.
“Let’s go compliment some egglings.” He put his hand in hers so she could pull him up. He was going to be a father. Now that Zach considered the possibility, he found it soothed his soul. Some people never wanted children, and he respected that. However, he had been in a different situation. As an asexual officer in the middle of a civil war, he had given up on children. But the yearning had always been there.
Zach stopped his Grandmother before she could lead them toward the public areas. “I love you,” he said. The word didn’t mean in Rownt what it did in English, but he knew she would understand.
The skin around her eyes tightened even more and she wrapped her arms around Zack. “I care so much for you that reasonable creatures would believe it useless to say it out loud.”
Zach laughed. It was such a Rownt thing to say, but then his family was Rownt.
The Choice
Liam rested his chin on his hand and watched an eggling—a literal eggling with a stumpy little tail—hold on to a parent’s leg. Liam had trouble believing the small creature riding on his or her mother’s foot would one day be an aloof Rownt. Right now the babe was clinging for dear life, but every time the mother stopped, the baby would reach out to grab anything close by: an adult’s leg, a table, a twig off the ground, a shiny stone.
The mother finally chose a food vendor and settled down, shifting the child to her lap, and Liam remembered his manners. He shifted his attention back to Ondry.
“The fruit tastes different than I remember.” He took a segment of bulfa fruit and wrapped a thin strip of meat around it. While the fruit had more sweetness than most Rownt food, Liam had still remembered it as more lemon than tangerine.
“It is just as overly sweet as always,” Ondry said. “However, many find that taste or smell can undergo alterations after spending significant time on a ship.”
Significant time. That was an understatement considering they’d travelled with the Calti for nearly three hundred years. Every general they’d met on that human planet so many years ago were all dead. Hell, every baby born the day Ondry had walked down his first human-built street had died of old age long ago. Most of the time, Liam didn’t think much about that. His life was full of discoveries and trade and figuring out ways to outsmart Grandmothers, so he didn’t have time to think about how other humans measured normal.
An older child ran between the tables, stopping for a moment to consider Liam, his eyes wide with curiosity. Liam wondered if the child had seen other humans. Good manners dictated that he allow the child to set the pace of the conversation, so Liam nibbled his bulfa and waited to see what the child might say. Instead, the eggling ran back to a father.
“Do Rownt have cycles in their reproduction?” Liam asked.
“Dry years can lead to eggs that fail to hatch.”
“There are far more children around than I’m used to seeing.”
The edges of Ondry’s eyes tightened.
“Make fun of me at the risk of your dignity,” Liam warned.
Ondry’s eyes tightened more, but then Ondry knew that Liam would not follow through with any threats. Rownt had discovered that humans engaged in mutual threats the way Rownt enjoyed mutual insults, and that had resulted in a shift in the way Rownt used language. However, as much as Ondry appeared to enjoy trading threats with others and appreciated Liam’s talent, he never threatened Liam in return.
“The parents have decided we are settled and trustworthy around children.”
Liam was offended. “Does that mean that those aboard the Calti did not trust us?”
Ondry put his food down and studied Liam, his expression more concerned. “We were open in our desire to return to Prarownt one day. I believe parents kept a certain distance because we were not settled.”
That made no sense. Liam knew full well that Rownt children were devoted to their parents, and didn’t care about the rest of the world. That egocentrism only vanished as they grew up and desired status. “Why would they care if we were around their children?”
“It would be awkward if we admired another’s child.”
Liam raised his eyebrows and waited for any explanation that made sense. In return, he earned a hearty huff.
After a pause long enough to imply that Liam was missing the obvious, Ondry said, “If we compliment the town’s children, it will be taken as a sign that we are ready to care for a child of our own. However, we did not intend to stay on the Calti. No mother wishes to entrust her eggling to untested parents who might leave at any time. If the parents kept their children away, then we could not compliment them, and so the lack of a youngling on our door can be dismissed as the mothers respecting our lack of interest.”
“Wait.” Liam’s brain had been rewired. “Are you telling me that we see children now because the town is encouraging us to raise a child?”
“They no longer object if we wish to raise a child.”
Liam considered the smallest eggling clinging to the female several tables over. The child grabbed a piece of meat and chewed at it. Considering how tough Rownt meat was, Ondry felt sorry for the little one. Then the mother took a piece of partially chewed meat out of her mouth and traded.
“Do you wish to raise a child?” Ondry asked. He stole a slice of Liam’s bulfa’s fruit. Two seconds after he bit into it, his features twisted with disgust.
“I hadn’t even thought about it.”
Ondry flared his nostrils.
Liam was more aware of the gazes on him than he had been in centuries. Resting his hand on his chin, he said in a voice loud enough that the Rownt around them could hear if they chose to pay attention, “That is a particularly attractive eggling.”
Ondry’s face tightened in pleasure. “He is.”
The Greatest Profit
Liam came out of the bathing room, unsurprised to see Ondry had already left. Holva had new pottery that should be finished today, and Ondry had never stopped worrying about Liam’s need for sleep. Liam remembered how humans would talk about how relationships grew stale if partners didn’t work at it, but being with Ondry never took effort. Ondry always put Liam’s needs first and Liam always felt the same about Ondry’s needs.
&
nbsp; Of course that was easy when Ondry’s main need was to show up some tuk-ranked trader from another city who thought Ondry’s relatively smaller size meant that he could be taken advantage of. After centuries of living with Ondry, Liam had discovered his own mean streak.
He’d never felt that way about anyone on the ship, but in some ways life was kinder on a ship. Space demanded that individuals work together to a far greater extent. Now that they were back on Prarownt, Liam enjoyed inflicting a little humiliation on those who underestimated him and Ondry. He pulled his clothes on and used his computer to pull up trading information and personal messages.
Once Liam had checked for any updated requests relating to the trade areas, Liam brought up the map to check on Ondry’s location. Yep. He was at Holva’s workshop. Hopefully, he would get some nice pieces. She had been looking to pull Ondry’s tail for months now, and he wasn’t above using it against a woman if she had eggs in her eyes.
Liam should wander that way after getting some food from Tilm. He opened the door and immediately stopped. A huge female crouched near his front door. With a deliberation only an ancient Rownt could manage, she turned and then unfolded her large frame. She wore the single white stone of a Grandmother.
She was not one of the Janatjanay Grandmothers, although something in her coloring seemed familiar. Sometimes the shape of one’s eyes or the pattern of the skin of the face passed from one generation to another, so Liam might know a family member. If so, it would be impolite to say as much since a Grandmother gave up any ties to biological family when she took on the responsibility of leading.
“Grandmother,” Liam said with a bow as he tried to decipher why she might be waiting at his door. Grandmothers did sometimes travel to trade or learn some new skill, but it was unusual. And if a Grandmother wished to trade, Ondry would never decline a Grandmother’s request that he attend a temple in another town.
“Tuk-Liam,” she rumbled as she inclined her head toward him. “Be well.” She held a bundle out, and Liam accepted it on instinct. One didn’t offend a Grandmother by refusing whatever gift or payment she had chosen to personally deliver. She turned away, and Liam blinked, not sure what to make of the exchange. And then the bundle in his arms moved.
Half afraid he was holding a poisonous lifeform, Liam flipped the edge of the covering back and a tiny Rownt face looked up at him. It blinked. No, he blinked. Liam could tell the child was male because he had pulled his long, masculine tail around and was chewing on it. Panic almost made him call out to the Grandmother as if she’d forgotten a child by accident, but his brain kicked in before he made a monumental mistake.
She’d come to a new town to leave her eggling with a responsible parent. With Liam and Ondry. Liam’s eyes grew hot with tears, and his emotions were too big for his chest. He ached watching the eggling maul the tip of his own tail with toothless gums. No, not the eggling. His eggling. Their eggling.
Liam went to thank the Grandmother or at least learn which town she was from, but he had been so distracted that she was already out of sight. She might have laid the egg, but Liam was the baby’s father, and now Liam needed to get the baby’s other father on the computer and tell him to come home because neither Holva’s pottery or profits mattered, not compared to what Ondry had waiting for him at home.
Liam sent a half-coherent message to Ondry to come home, and then he retreated to their nest, placing the precious bundle down. The child rolled onto his stomach and wiggled into the pillows, his butt up in the ai r and his tail lashing.
Laughing, Liam put the child upright on the blanket the Grandmother had delivered him in. Within seconds, the child had, once again, shoved his head between the pillows so his butt was raised. Liam rescued him a second and a third and fourth time before his communicator beeped to let him know Ondry was near. Liam had programmed it after being ambushed too many times. While he appreciated being stalked and pounced on as step one in an afternoon of athletic sex, he also appreciated a little warning.
He bundled the eggling back into his blanket and took the baby out to meet Ondry. Maybe the first introduction should be private, but Liam couldn’t wait. He wasn’t more than two steps toward the front door when it burst open.
Ondry stood there, pale with distress, his nostrils wide and his tail straight out behind him, which suggested he’d been running full tilt. Liam stopped, shocked at Ondry’s appearance. When he mentally reviewed the text he’d sent, he winced. “It isn’t a bad sort of emergency,” Liam said as a sort of apology. He held the eggling up, and Ondry shifted his gaze away from Liam’s face.
Ondry took a step into their public room, his color returning. He turned his normal rosy plum before darkening even more. With his next step, his tail curled around his leg and the tension eased out of his shoulders. Ondry’s nostrils stayed open, and he huffed as he studied the eggling in Liam’s arms.
“A Grandmother from out of town delivered him this morning. I was so shocked that I didn’t think to ask any questions about who laid the egg or which town she was from.” The eggling reached for Liam’s ear, pulling at it before sticking a finger in the canal. Liam shifted him to protect himself, and the eggling then became fascinated with Liam’s nose. Liam wondered if the eggling could recognize that Liam was not Rownt.
Before fingers found their way in Liam’s nose, Ondry gently pulled the child from Liam’s arms. He was staring at the eggling as if he were every profit Ondry had ever earned, all stacked in one giant pile. He watched the eggling like he did Liam. Rownt might not have much love for others in general, but they had such intensity for the few individuals society and biology allowed them to love.
“He’s beautiful,” Ondry said in a low, reverent tone.
Liam moved closer and put his hand on the baby’s chest. “His eyes have the same angle as yours,” he said.
“Grandmothers do like to pull my tail,” Ondry said, and he darkened even more. Liam couldn’t argue with that.
“I don’t know how to raise an eggling. Do they need diapers? A crib?” The English words felt odd in Liam’s mouth, but he didn’t know the Rownt equivalent. He should. They had complimented others’ egglings, but it had been less than a week since Ondry had explained how Rownt chose parents, and Liam hadn’t found the time to study a new vocabulary.
Ondry finally looked away from the child. “No one knows when an eggling will be left on their step, so the temple will provide all that is needed for the first few months.” Ondry rested a hand on Liam’s neck. “We have an eggling,” he said, wonder in his voice.
“We have an eggling from a Grandmother—an ancient one,” Liam corrected him. Liam’s cheeks ached from smiling too hard. Ondry leaned closer, and Liam tried to angle his face for a kiss, but the eggling squirmed too much. Instead they rested their foreheads together and gazed down at their hatchling.
“We have to name him,” Ondry said after a long silence.
Liam straightened up. He had a favorite storyscroll. He’d gotten it in a trade before he’d ever met Ondry, and the story had convinced him that Rownt weren’t the mercenary psychopaths Command suggested. It was their version of the Midas myth, featuring a Grandfather who had accumulated great wealth by making ships that could sail over sea and land. He prayed for more wealth. Each time, the gods took away what he possessed and replaced it with something better. In the end, he had a ship that could travel impossible distances in any terrain. It was so large that a whole town could travel with him, only it had no temple, so he was the commander. He had more than any Rownt would ever ask for, and still, he prayed to the gods for more.
The gods took everything and left him with a single eggling.
He spent the rest of his life weaving nets and repairing ship hulls as he watched his child grow. Spooner had thought it was a cautionary tale about asking for too much, but Liam had seen the vocabulary used, and he thought it was a happy ending. He thought the grandfather was happy to raise one more eggling. Now he knew his instincts had been right, and
every description of the small hut in the ending had revealed the grandfather’s joy.
“Is Takil too old-fashioned of a name?” Liam asked. That had been the name of the eggling in the story.
The skin around Ondry’s eyes tightened. “That is a very proper name. Let us go introduce Takil to the temple and get supplies before he introduces bodily fluids to our home.”
Liam laughed. He remembered the smells and chaos his siblings had created as infants. Apparently, all children—human or alien—were doomed to create mess. That was a truth Liam was happy to explore.
Adjustments
Ondry slipped his tail inside the leg of Liam’s sleeping pants. Takil rolled over, and Ondry gently moved their eggling back onto the largest pillow. Liam lived in fear of rolling onto him during sleep, so Ondry claimed the center of the nest with Takil on one side and Liam on the other. He would not trade in his life, even if some miracle had occurred to allow him to become a Grandmother.
He wiggled his tail, and Liam shifted in his sleep. The gentle scents of desire drifted off his sleep-warm body. This made Ondry happy. He waited until Liam made sighs and grunts before he pressed the tip inside. It had been too long since they had enjoyed each other’s bodies. Takil’s appearance had changed much. He brought joy and love into their life, but Ondry wished they had more time for the pleasures he and Liam shared.
The moment Liam woke, Ondry knew it. The sudden gasp. The way Liam’s fingers clenched. The arch of his back. It was all perfect. But then that perfection vanished. Liam flailed, his arms sending pillows tumbling around the nest as the smell of distress bloomed.
“No!” Liam said, and he pulled at Ondry’s tail. Normally, Ondry enjoyed having his tail pulled—especially by Liam—but this panicked distress made Ondry pale and Takil woke, his eyes wide as he searched the nest for the danger.
