The Kingdom of Ecstasy

by S. R. Laubrea

  In the days since the mansion burned down, Trenthoni saw little change. Debris still cluttered the streets, and the mansion was still a pile of rubble. A Crawler towered there now, and the townsfolk weren't too happy about it, as if the machine was encroaching on a historic landmark.

  Still, they gathered, sometimes by the hundreds, to hear the words of the prophet who came with the machine:

  "People of Trenthoni, listen to me, please. The time has come for the fulfillment of Fate. My Lord, Mokallai, is opening the way to a better world, an era where Men rule supreme. He is even offering retribution for Trenthoni, to anyone who accepts him as he is, Destiny incarnate. All he asks back from you is this simple recognition that he, his will and his power, are absolute."

  When Marqisian heard, he joined the crowd.

  "Mokallai is generous beyond compare. He fulfills the desires of those loyal to him."

  "Any desire?" Marqisian asked.

  "Yes, anything."

  "Can he bring back my dad?"

  The prophet smiled. "Of course, where has he gone?"

  "My father is dead."

  That smile swiftly disappeared.

  "I've heard legends of the Alyi resurrecting ones. If this Mokallai can bring him back, I'll swear unwavering allegiance to him."

  "In many things Destiny is capable, but what you ask is not one of them."

  "I see." With that he took his leave.

  He rounded the end of the long block and started down the alley. There was a place at the dead-end with a bad reputation. It was a place with no windows, a private bar. The bouncer stepped aside as soon as Marqisian approached. He entered and took his usual seat at the counter.

  "Let me guess," the bartender said, leaning towards Marqisian. "A whole bottle of vintage Jokthathi Spiced."

  "I'mma need something hard tonight."

  "Gotcha." The bartender was a friend of his, although he didn't know the man's name. He disappeared into the back, and some moments later emerged with a round, stout, short-necked bottle that was about as big as melon. The contents was pristine with a faint bluish tint. The bartender popped it open and pushed it towards Marqisian.

  He sniffed it. "What's this?"

  "They call it 'Guirann'."

  "They?"

  The bartender nodded towards the stage.

  The tyiha dancing on the stage was the reason the bar had no windows. She was dressed in jewels and a costume, like a cabaret belly dancer. Only she had no collar. It was illegal to keep kyusoas without bonds, like walking a dog without a leash in a public park.

  "So it's a kyusoa drink."

  "Yeah, malted liquor." The bartender grinned. "It'll take your mind off things."

  Marqisian shrugged. Each sip was brazenly bitter. At the same time, it was a harsh and frigid beverage. He drank it lukewarm, but it turned his stomach cold as if he went bare-bellied into a raging blizzard. "You know you're going to get busted one day for having that She-kin on display like that."

  "Tsaaba?"

  "Yeah, her."

  "You know, I've always wondered what pot-bellied bastard gets to sit on his throne and tell me that it's okay to fire and degrade my best employees solely because they aren't human. I mean I love Tsaaba. She speaks my language, she brings in the boys, she pays my bills."

  "I take it you haven't heard the Prophet yet."

  "I have. I don't like the idea of a world where Man is the sole dominant species. Something about that…" the bartender said, hesitating as if tasting the next few words he wanted to say: "just sounds ominous to me."

  Marqisian took another sip.

  "Come to think of it, it sounds just as dumb to them guys over there." The bartender pointed across the room at a white-haired man, a blond, a woman, and three kyusoas. "And I think they're looking for a thyrafel for hire, if you're interested."

  "How much for the drink?"

  "It's on me."

  "Thanks." He moved the bottle until he could see the six in its reflection.

  The six of them were situated at a round table surrounded by a semi-circular booth. Guirann wasn't the easiest drink, but Rollond preferred it. He was quiet, contemplating his situation, while Ielase laughed obnoxiously beside Allondt. She leaned on her brother, face red as a radish. To her right was Rah'ii, then right of him was Sanci. Ashenzsi sat on Allondt's left, directly across from Rollond, snickering, his lower lip curled inward, half his teeth showing.

  'Stop brooding,' Ashenzsi said.

  'I never asked to be "the leader".'

  'What do you expect? When you start barking out orders —'

  'Don't make it sound like it's something I just do.'

  'But it is. You need to accept it. I'm sick of seeing you in denial, running from who you are, from an aspect of yourself that you can't escape.'

  'Pfeh.' Rollond downed another glass of guirann, thudded it to the table and put on his sourest face. It was a strong drink. 'You sound like one of those Destiny-preachers.'

  Ashenzsi flattened his ears, puckered his lips to keep from bearing his teeth at him.

  The rest of them could tell something was going on between the two, something silent, yet involving a lot of words, a lot of thought.

  'You'll always be my Oath-brother, the only uunan I swore I'd follow, even to the bitter end. But if you can't get it together, then I'm better off on my own.'

  'You… wouldn't — you couldn't do that.'

  'I can,' he said, 'and I will.'

  He poured another glass. The taste was especially bitter. What was life without Ashenzsi? He couldn't fathom it. They did everything together, they were a pair, like a boot and a sock. One without the other was just outright stupid.

  He was just about to sit back when a tall, thin man with auburn hair approached him. "This's quite the motley crew you got here," he said.

  "What do you want?" Rollond asked.

  "I heard you're looking for a thyrafel."

  "I am. You are?"

  "Marqisian DuShaffte," he said, "you won't find a better thyrafel than mine."

  "Why? What makes you so special?"

  Marqisian pulled up a chair. He unbelted the black leather holster and put it on the table in front of him. He slid the thyafel out, mindful not to put his finger on the trigger.

  "A thyrafel isn't like other guns." It held eight rounds, big as a quarter is wide, and had a revolver-like appearance. He popped the cylinder out, emptied the bullets, and pushed it back in. "The way you tell the difference between the real thing and a fake is this."

  He aimed the barrel square between Rollond's eyes and cocked the trigger. At half pull the gun emitted a soft whirr, and a hot light grew within the depths of the barrel. It took a half a second to charge. "Fake ones click when empty, because they only fire bullets. A real thyrafel doesn't need ammo." He released the trigger and the energy welled up within the cylinder dissipated.

  "I see. Still doesn't tell me why you're the best."

  "I guess you'd just have to trust me there."

  "Yes I am looking to hire. Right now we —" he motioned to the five with him with a sweep of his hand — "need a place for the night. If you'd put us up, we'll talk in the morning."

  Marqisian gave him a leery look, and Rollond understood what it meant. Honestly, even he thought it sounded bad for business. Then Marqisian licked his lips and eventually bobbed his head. "I've a friend here. I could see if he'll keep you for the night."

  "Wait just one minute," Ielase said, nearly slumping over the table. "You're a hotel. So where's the blacksmith!? Can't no one tell me — I'm full of melons!"

  "… First time drunk?" Marqisian asked.

  "I don't even know anymore," Rollond said.

  "C'mere big boy, and gimme a hug!" She started climbing over the table towards Ashenzsi. She was a little ways off and wound up tumbling onto the floor. She grabbed Marqisian's arm and tottered to her feet. Then she looked at him real hard. "Your eyes are mismatched!" She cracked up laughing. "I must be one of them whatc
hamajiggers, because he's blue." She pointed at Allondt, dead serious.

  Marqisian handed her off to Rah'ii. "Hey, Mix-it Man," he called towards the counter, "you've got one fresh and five strays. Any spare space in the back?"

  "Yeah I got rooms," The bartender said. "They're not free, nor are they public."

  "How much to reserve two of them?" Marqisian asked.

  "What, you're a charity?"

  "Look, there's no way this lot is going to check into a hotel, issue-free, four o'clock in the morning with three kyusoas and this woman smashed worse than a five pound bag of vawds."

  "That's not my —"

  "Ten thousand nihk for two rooms, plus whatever damage they do in food and drink."

  "Freig, why don't you buy my whole bar? Bring'em here and I'll register them."

  The wee hours of morning were drawing near. Gradually the patrons departed, seemingly one-by-one, until only nine people were left at the closing hour of the bar.

  Rollond remained at the booth. Marqisian plopped down across from him. "So what's your story?"

  "A long one," Rollond muttered. "I fled my job two months ago. It's taken us that long to get here on foot. I've got enough nihk to waste on a gun-for-hire to watch my back. You see, I had a sour run-in with those Destiny-sayers over at the Estate up north, and I'm positive they want me — us — dead. Only problem is I don't know where I'm going, and I don't plan to stay anywhere. If you want the job, you can have it, but I expect you to travel with us until the money's no good or we find a haven."

  "I see."

  "Now what's yours?"

  "Not much. I get out-of-town contracts, sometimes to escort someone, sometimes to kill. The nihk's good, covers my expenses and then some."

  "To the point that you've got ten grand to waste on this lot?"

  "Yes."

  "Thank you."

  "Eh… I don't care much about the money, to be honest. I can't buy my dad back."

  "What's wrong with him?"

  "He's dead." Marqisian tilted his head back and shut his eyes tight, downing the last of the guirann the barkeep gave him.

  "Oh…" Rollond didn't know what to say to that; and from a glance, Marqisian didn't seem to care about condolences.

  Still, the two of them continued to drink and talk.

  Eiynvas, the 30th day in the month of Doryil

  Around the time 2AM was rolling by, the door to the girls' room slid open. Sanci stepped into the lonesome corridor in the back of the establishment. There were six rooms. A certain half-familiar stench marked them. It wasn't like the smell of old farts, or rancid things left out to air dry. But it was a sour smell that belonged to sex — the sloppy stuff, that no matter how hard one scrubbed, it wouldn't get out of the carpet.

  She went to the door directly across the hall, and knocked. "Ashenzsi?" she asked, making her voice just loud enough to hear through the door.

  He slid the door back. "Tsche?"

  She patted her belly. "Please." The swelling was worsening, spreading up and around her sides.

  He nodded, and followed her into the room she shared with Ielase.

  The woman was sprawled on one of the beds, unaware of everything because she was unconscious. Sanci stretched herself out on the other bed, and half-laid back. "Don't tell your brother," she said.

  He nodded, and flattened his palms to her stomach. He gently pushed and spread his hands along her skin. Of course her body radiated warmth, she was alive, yet when he moved his hands towards her hips, she was feverishly hot. It was an isolated, throbbing heat. He kneaded, stroking his palms carefully around her pelvis. "I understand, and I won't tell."

  "Tsche?"

  "You are pregnant." It was impossible to feel what was going on deep within her, but the immediate signs at the surface, the heat, the extra pulse, the swelling, all pointed to pregnancy. "How long has it been?"

  "Two and a half months."

  "Better tell him soon, he doesn't like surprises." With that he lifted his hands from her, went out and returned to the room across the hall.

  She hugged to the wall, lingering in the corridor. The depth of Rollond's voice sparked longing within her. She wanted his touch. It seemed so far-fetched a couple months ago, yet now it was as if something crucial was missing.

  They were still talking:

  "I'll tell you what I know of them," Rollond said. "Ielase is an obnoxious brat. Good-hearted woman, but she'll try and work your nerves. Allondt doesn't like confrontation much. He's more about getting-it-done-right. Rah'ii's a useful airhead, you'll find that out eventually. Ashenzsi's my sworn brother. He's a bit of an airhead, too." He paused. "And then there's Sanci. Be mindful around her."

  "She's the odd one out?" Marqisian asked.

  "She doesn't take stress very well."

  "Ah." Marqisian got behind the bar. He fumbled through the bottles until he found one he wanted to drink, opened it, and returned to the booth.

  How to tell him? It was the sole thought coursing through her mind while she strode from the back towards the bar. "Rollond," she said, forcing strength into her voice. She almost clung to the counter to keep from shaking. Especially when he turned his attention her way.

  "Tsche, Sanci?"

  "I think we got off on the wrong palm," she said, coming around the counter. "Su'u, I want you to know my remorse for what I did."

  "Don't worry about it, I'm not dead."

  "No, but I want you to know that I'm p-pr…" Pregnant.

  "You're…?"

  "I'm prepared to fight alongside you," she said, forcing the sound of confidence.

  "I swore I'd protect you."

  "Yes, but should you ever need me."

  "Alright, I'll keep you in mind."

  She forced a smile, then sauntered back to the room she shared with Ielase. The door closed behind her, and she crawled into the second bed. How was she ever going to tell him? The third month was coming quickly. After that was the fourth, and during that month she was bound to give birth. It all seemed like days away, just a matter of mere hours. Ashenzsi's words rang in her ears:

  He doesn't like surprises. She lay there, forcing her eyes to stay closed. Eventually sleep took her.

  That morning — the only way to tell it was morning was by propping the front door open — the six of them awoke and gathered around the sole, semi-circular booth.

  Rollond was slumped over the table, fast asleep.

  Ashenzsi motioned to Allondt and Marqisian. It took some effort to work Rollond's limp, heavy body out from the booth, since the table was bolted to the floor. But after he was out from behind the table, the three of them carried him into the boys' room and flopped him in one of the beds.

  After Allondt and Marqisian went out, Ashenzsi carefully closed the door behind him. When he returned to the lounge, Rah'ii, Ielase, Sanci, Allondt and Marqisian all sat around the counter.

  "How long do you think he'll be out?" Allondt asked.

  Ashenzsi shrugged. "Until he wakes."

  "So what do we do in the mean time?" Ielase asked.

  "You all have brains," Ashenzsi said. "Whatever you do, just be safe."

  They exchanged nods, and with that, went their separate ways.

  The sun outside was a silver-lined white spot in the sky when Marqisian set foot out the front door. What was a Marsh Boy to do, he wondered. Trenthoni was such a small town compared to Kneitun. He stuffed his hands in his pockets and shuffled down the alley. How he missed his home city. Not only that, but his hearts were tugging in his chest at the thought of the rains in the marshland.

  He wished, hard, until his temples throbbed, that he could go back to Malzeyur. To go back to stalking through the bog like Marsh Boys do.

  He ducked into another alley, crossed a street and came to an apartment complex. He pushed his palm to the scanner. The door opened and he made his way up several flights of stairs to a place he barely used.

  His apartment was sparsely furnished. Save for the fridge, the only pi
ece of furniture he owned was a lonely cot in the bedroom. Beside it was a picture of a blond man with bright, blue eyes like sapphires. He'd wait a few seconds, and the image cycled through to the next:

  A chocolate-skinned woman with silvery tresses, his adoptive mother.

  Then it cycled to a mocha-skinned woman, also with silver hair, only she had one green eye and one blue, like him. This was his half-sister.

  Next, a picture of him when he was little.

  Then finally a shot of Arlen, his wife, and Marqisian before his sister was born.

  His father's murder still burned him. He hated that man — the one with the golden eyes who killed Arlen. Yet in the 238 years since, Marqisian never crossed paths with him. It was as if he vanished off the face of Dyjian.

  He pulled a titanium chain from around his neck. The locket was small, the only possession that meant something to him. He opened it and held it near the digital frame. The pictures vanished to a black screen with the word 'Syncing…' Before a minute was up, the pictures were transferred to the locket.

  He was done lamenting the past.

  Lastly he picked up the empty frame, dropped it off at a random door across the hall, locked his apartment and went downstairs to the manager's office.

  The door was open, and the manager was in.

  "I got a job," he said.

  "So you're not a lazy slob. Good."

  "I won't be coming back."

  "Even better."

  With that he departed the complex and started back to the bar.

  Three blocks east of the apartment complex, there was a small clothing shop that didn't see very many customers. In fact, when Rah'ii waltzed in, he was the only soul there apart from the manager and his assistant.

  He didn't stop to study her, even though he saw her tense behind the counter and hurriedly head towards him. "E-excuse me," she said, sounding uncertain that he'd even understand her.

  Then he looked at her, and she almost jumped back.

  "W-we don't s-serve… your kind here."

  "What is my kind?" he asked, noting how her mouth hung open that he spoke.

  "Y-you're… you know."

  "I'm…?"

  "An animal," she said, her tone low, like she really didn't want to say it.

  "Oh." He made sure to sound surprised, like he'd never heard that before. "I'd like to buy some clothes." He grinned. They all needed a change of clothing, after two and a half months in the jungle.

  The young woman looked at him funny.

  "I have what you call… nihk? I have much nihk, if you want it, but only for a fair trade." Between Rollond, Allondt, and Ielase, there was plenty of money. Though he was spending Allondt's. Not that the blond cared. Allondt never bought anything, he only ever hoarded it to his name.

  "Right…" she said. "What are you looking for?"

  "First, a sturdy bag."

  She took him by the designer purses section. He prowled over the bright colors and shiny materials. He didn't bother with the small purses, but plucked the larger ones off the racks. He gave them a tug, checked out the inside, jiggled them by their handles. Until finally he determined a fashion handbag wasn't what he needed.

  Then he spotted one that looked sturdy hanging on the wall at the far end of the aisle. He plucked a backpack off the wall. It was a hiker's backpack, large capacity, thick straps, more pockets than he'd shake a stick at. He gave it a tug, and seams felt taut. "This one."

  "What are you, hiking through the jungle?"

  He smiled. "Tsche. Next I want durable clothes."

  She lead him to another part of the store. "Like jeans?"

  He kneaded the fabric in his fingers. It was more akin to cloth-armor, he couldn't better explain it than that. It had some thickness to it, and seemed like it would be good against simple scrapes and bumps. But he wasn't sure how long the material would hold up in the jungle. "Do you have anything else?"

  "There's leather." She took him to that section.

  The jungle of Phiiva was wet more often than not. Leather was at least water resistant, but it wouldn't allow much freedom of movement, or for skin to breathe. Frankly, they were better off going naked and tailoring their own clothes as they went along. But, he knew, the uunani would have issues with that. Their skin wasn't like his.

  "Nai'ii, leather won't do…" He gave a short bow. "Aunii chaas," he said, though she looked at him strangely.

  "You're… w-e-l-c-o-m-e?"

  He wandered the store, plucking one thing after another. He brought them one by one to the counter: four pairs of shoes, four pairs of pants, four moisture wicking shirts, assorted mens and womens underwear, and four light weight, long-sleeve jackets.

  She rang him up. His total was 650 nihk.

  He added the prices in his head, and nodded in agreement. "The trade is fair," he announced, and he paid her. Afterwards he carefully placed the things he bought in the backpack, starting with the shoes, and departed the store.

  He slung the backpack over his shoulder and started for the bar, a cheeky grin on his features.

  Along the way he passed a park.

  The bubbling sound of water in the fountain was accompanied by the collective song of birds. Allondt sat on a lonely park bench.

  It wasn't too late, he thought, to go back to the estate. Things have probably cleared up by now, it's been two and a half months. All that with Rylieq was just a show, and… their father didn't really buy into it. Right?

  Some kids were playing on a train in the sandbox. A little redhead girl got in the cab. "Choo-choo!" she shouted. "Everyone get on, we're going to the Magic Forest!"

  There was a dark-skinned boy, his complexion like coffee. He got on at first, but then hopped off the caboose. "Wait!" he shouted to the redhead. "We've got to go back, my mom has Wizardry Pie!"

  The redhead looked at him, her expression flat, as if wondering why he didn't get the pie before he left. "This train only goes forward," she said.

  Not once in his life did Allondt ever wonder what was really out there beyond the distortion of the barrier. His sister was the adventuring one out of the three of them, and he figured he needed to be more like her.

  Don't look back.

  What was there at the Ankuseth Estate? Aelythian Beings, eager to jump into his skin, and that golden-eyed husk of his brother.

  Rylieq was dead. Allondt probably would be too, especially if he had stayed; even more so if he went back now.

  Things happened exactly the way they did for a reason. He wasn't sure what that reason was, whether it was general incompetence, a flaw in human nature, or just plain idiocy. Could it be traced back to Fylus? Ever since that man had arrived, things had been weird at the estate.

  Then, too, it didn't make sense to assess these things now.

  Because life can only move forward.

  He watched them a little while longer, then, as the sun was approaching the mid-day mark, he got up and went back to the bar.

  The redhead girl hopped down from the cab and skipped past him. She crossed the street to the candy shop.

  The confections on display in the window looked appetizing. The bright colors, and oh — the smells! Ashenzsi hovered in the window, oblivious to the odd looks people gave him because he was a kyusoa. There was a big, rose-shaped sucker glistening in the light of noon.

  His main infatuation with it wasn't its sugary scent, but its pearl color and faint yellow hue. It was beautiful, and he wanted it. He had a mind to take it up to the store owner, but someone shouting stopped him.

  "You little thief!" The owner shouted. He clutched a little redhead girl's arm in one hand and half-eaten bar of chocolate in the other.

  Ashenzsi flicked his ear. It was such a simple problem. He stepped up to the shopkeep. "Excuse me," he said, thoughtfully picking his next words, because the owner scowled at him. He specially didn't want to hear from some kyusoa.

  "What do you want!?"

  "How much is that candy?" Ashenzsi asked.

>   "Six nihk," the owner snapped. "Why!?"

  "I'm wondering if she could do something for you, in exchange for the bar?"

  "I don't endorse child labor."

  "Nai'ii, no labor, but maybe something small around the shop? Something worth six nihk."

  The owner rubbed his chin. "Look, if you do it with her, I'll give you the money, then you pay for the chocolate."

  Ashenzsi nodded. The shopkeep released the girl and disappeared into the back of the store. She looked up at him with wet hazel eyes, sniffed, wiped her nose on the back of her hand.

  "I'm sorry," she said, "please, let me go."

  "Nai'ii." He shook his head.

  "Please? I swear I'll never do it again, I promise!"

  Still, Ashenzsi shook his head no. Then the store owner returned with some caution signs, a bucket, a short-handle broom and a mop.

  "Here," he said. "I want the whole floor done in an hour."

  The girl sobbed. She didn't want to clean. But Ashenzsi handed her the broom.

  About fifteen minutes later, the girl quit her sobbing. Determined, she swept the aisles ahead of Ashenzsi, who mopped.

  At a half hour, her determination turned into detail. She was peeping under things to make sure she got all the dust.

  Forty-five minutes in, she was finished, leaving Ashenzsi to mop. She strode up to him. "Mister," she said, "why are you helping me?"

  "Because you needed it," he said. It wasn't that she was a child. Truth be told, there was a lesson to be learned. He wished that money didn't hold such importance to human beings, because their societies would fare much better. Like the Kyusoakin Communes he visited in his travels with Rollond. No one ever went without what they needed.

  Values, he thought. Humans need better values.

  At the end of the hour, the floor was finished. The store owner gave the girl an extra chocolate bar, and she ran back to the park. He then turned to Ashenzsi. "So, the money —"

  Ashenzsi waved the offer down. "I just want that flower." He pointed at the candy rose in the window.

  The shopkeep nodded. He took the confection off the display, wrapped it, bagged it, and handed it to Ashenzsi.

  Elated over his first purchase, he crossed the main street on his way back to the bar.

  Main Street was wider than all other streets. It also led to the town square, where the mansion had once been. Ielase stopped on the other side of the sidewalk. There wasn't a crowd, because it was noon and most people were at home with family and friends on an Eiynvas. So the prophet wasn't out preaching to the wind.

  For that matter she was pondering where the Prophet could've gotten off to, while she studied the eye of the Crawler.

  The main eye of the Crawler was pink. Not every Crawler had a pink one; most of them were factory set to a greenish-yellow shade of cyan. Customizing the eye was one way of showing it was owned by someone, like carving a name into the hood of a vehicle.

  It wasn't a simple matter of coloring the lens, because it had to do with the initial set-up of the AI for the machine. And, by the gurgle in her stomach, Ielase knew that was her Crawler.

  That was Cou standing there, probably thinking it was having an out-of-body experience since the AI was inserted into the Deluxe Sentinel model. It had seven legs, and more space in the cabin for a capacity of ten, instead of three.

  The one thought that crossed her mind, as she waltzed up to it, was how she intended to defend herself. She was unarmed, and if the prophet was inside Cou, that was going to make things difficult. If it came down to the worst, she'd just have to put up with being a proselyte.

  "Cou," she said, standing under the hatch. "Bring me in."

  At once the Crawler let down a bluish cone of light, and pulled Ielase in.

  'Good day, Ielase! It's been a long time. What can [I] do for you?'

  How she missed seeing the transcripts of everything Cou said. It was part of the AI's design, the fact that every time an AI spoke, it couldn't refer to itself in the first person. The transcripts reflected this by inserting first-person identifiers in brackets. It was one of those things that looked good as an idea, as part of removing self-awareness from the computer. But in application it was just stupid.

  "Shut your trap," Ielase said. "I'm going to hijack you, Cou, and you're not going to stop me."

  'Understood!' Cou flashed some hearts in the holographic light of its console. The machine didn't care about being stolen by its previous owner.

  "In fact —" she pulled up a map of Trenthoni — "take me to this alley here. I want you to stay put at the street near this bar." She circled the building with her finger. "If that prophet comes sauntering over to try and take you back, step on him."

  'Yes, Ielase. It will be as you say.' With that, the Crawler marched from the town square to the designated alley, at the end of which was the bar.

  The only one who hadn't left the bar, other than Rollond, was Sanci. She hummed while she drew hot water for herself. She had cleaned the tub before deciding to bathe. The whole process had taken about two hours. Not that it was inherently filthy, she simply didn't want to miss a spot.

  She got in the water and soaked. Gradually the tension of the past few months melted, and for awhile she was able to relax. She ran her hands along her stomach, down to her thighs. She would never show like women do, when they get those rounded, pregnant bellies. Because tyihas were built differently.

  Their abs were like steel rods, and their babies were much smaller. They were high-performance creatures, and a big, round stomach, as wonderful an experience it must've been, would only slow her down.

  But still, as she ran her hands along her flesh, there was movement. She held still, and whoever it was that was inside of her stretched, pushing a tiny appendage — an arm and hand, maybe; or a tail; or a leg and foot — against her. She lay her ears back, wishing she had the courage to tell him.

  She felt so silly, but she wanted Rollond there with her. Wanted to slip those gloves off his hands and push his palms to her body, for him to know, to feel the life of someone.

  Or some thing.

  On the other hand, she thought of what sort of horror could be developing. What does the offspring of a man and a kyusoa look like? There was such potential for so many things to go hideously wrong.

  Yet for that moment it was as if he, or she, was trying to say hello. She prodded back. Then, as if clued in to there being life outside, they pushed again with two hands. Whoever they were, they must've been a long-bodied creature, for the one hand was about mid-way to her hips, and the other was towards her navel.

  She couldn't help noticing that the push towards her navel was much, much stronger than the one towards her hips.

  Perhaps it wasn't the same creature?

  Regardless, she would know in a month and a half whether it was a viable life form, or if it should be disposed of. Until then, she redetermined, it was best not to tell Rollond.

  She emptied the tub, and cleaned it out a second time. She ducked into the ladies' room, the one she shared with Ielase, oiled her train and her crest, dressed and went across the hall.

  The others hadn't returned yet, when she slid the door open to the boys' room. Rollond lay there, groggy as a drugged elephant. He glanced up at Sanci, puckered his lips at first, but then kind-of smiled.

  She got onto the covers with him, and the first thing he did was wrap his arms around her and hold her close. She knew he was half out-of-it still. Or maybe it was that scented oil that drew him to her? She couldn't tell what it was.

  "Stop hiding things from me," he said, drawling. He nestled the back of her neck. "I just want to feel like I matter. Quit shutting me out."

  Her heart sank. These weren't his usual words, she'd been around him long enough to know. The mask was off and his guard was nonexistent. It seemed he wanted to be that way.

  A whole day had passed since he'd last had a drink. He was sober. Tired, sure, and he wanted to sleep in for as long as he could. But t
his wasn't some half-baked act, wasn't the result of too much alcohol, of some altered state of mind.

  Did he already know?

  "Sanci, please. Don't do this to me. Just let me love you, please…"

  She couldn't say a word. Not even his name.

  The silence between them was palpable. She tensed when he let go, rolled over, and sat on the edge of the bed. There was a pause, and she wished she could've known what ran through his mind. But before she could say anything, he peeled off his clothes and got in the shower.

  "Rollond," she said, unable to form the rest of her thought after his name. Honestly, she had no clue what was going on with her. It was such a strange place, emotionally and physically. These longings were things she never had with her previous mate, and she didn't know how to say it to him.

  He didn't offer any gesture or indication of his disposition. He simply got dressed. "The boys aren't going to like you hanging out in their room," he said, and he left.

  Hot gushes of anger boiled in Rollond's stomach, mixed with something like woeful pain and regret. Sanci incensed him. He hesitated at the end of the hallway, because he noticed his erratic breathing. It wasn't as significant as dropping to his knees and bawling with his face in his hands, but he couldn't allow himself to show any of it.

  He took a deep breath, swallowed his agitation, put on that stalwart, resolute face and joined Ielase and Rah'ii inside Cou.

  Of course he walked in on them in Cou's Nav. Ielase sat on the edge of the cylindrical map display, her shirt and bra bunched up on her chest while her pants were nearly discarded, dangling off her ankle. Her fingers were tightly wound into Rah'ii's mane, his head between her thighs.

  It wasn't until after some squirming that she happened to see Rollond standing there. "Ah! R-r-r — hi!" She said, almost leaping back over the map drum. In a hurry she pulled her bra into place, her shirt swiftly coming down.

  Rah'ii peered over his shoulder, licking his lips slowly, this eerily accomplished look on his face, as if to say women are tasty. He snuck in one last lick before she hastily got her panties and jeans back on.

  "You should try his hips," Rollond said, amused. "I see you were working the globe."

  "Y-yeah," Ielase said, straightening herself. She pulled up a magnified picture of Phiiva. "We're here." She prodded Trenthoni. "This is the area of the Estate." She made an oblong circle around the whole territory, towards the center of the continent. Then she stepped back.

  Rah'ii traced his finger through the hologram. "The largest Kyisaarae I know of would be here, here, and here," he said, circling his fingers around three different spots on the map.

  He circled kyusoakin Communes. One was far west, another was northeast of the estate, near the city of Prisbeald, and the third was off the southeast coast.

  "And these are the trade routes," he said, making bright pink lines on the map.

  "So where do we go?" Ielase asked, turning to Rollond.

  "Stick to the southern trade routes along the coast," Rollond said. "Your father has a fleet of Crawlers, Katts, and Mokallai's people. It'd be a brilliant idea to avoid the cities for now."

  Princes.

  Chovas, the 39th day in the month of Sorric;

  The events surrounding two boys;

  Summer of the 691st year of the Second Epoch of Dyjian.