“So, what happened to you after the mess at the party?” Bannor asked. “You disappeared.”
The lines of the man’s broad face pulled down. “I took some mighty hits in that fight my friend, as did my dearest one.” He leaned back and pulled Irodee close. He sighed. “Those foes were beyond my ken. It broke my heart, but I had to acknowledge I could not both fight at your shoulder and protect my precious ones.” He leaned around to smile at his daughter. He focused his gaze back on them. “I apologize for not confessing this personally. Things grew a bit hectic after that fell vixen took away Lady Liandra and Azir. I understand you had a hand in their recovery. How are things? Matradomma has spared me little beyond the essentials since the citadel was cleared to prevent the spread of a ‘plague’.”
“We finally defeated the people behind the attacks. Everyone is fine, though you might not recognize some of us anymore…”
“A fine bravo is in order then,” Laramis said with a nod. “By recognizing, are you referring to the change in your appearance? I must confess I wasn’t sure it was you, but Jewel insisted it was.” He rubbed Irodee’s arm, she looked down and smiled at him. “Arminwen, your semblance is different as well, though more like I remember you from before Hecate’s war.”
Sarai grinned. “It’s hard to be a princess when I don’t look like the princess.”
The justicar grinned. “Indeed.”
“So, it’s been a while, what have you been doing?”
“Oh, have no doubt we’ve been keeping busy. Matradomma has run us ragged with all beastly manner of court affairs—keeping the kingdom on a steady keel as it were.” He shook his head. “I must say it has been hard on my conscience. To be able to hear the fell goings-on in the citadel and having the stature of my contributions reduced to a mere shuffling of documents and court oration.” He rubbed the back of his head. “Quite frustrating actually.”
“Laramis, you contributed a lot,” Sarai assured him. “Just knowing you could be trusted with those errands gave Mother and Father great peace of mind.”
“Aye,” Laramis assented with a grudging expression. “Thinking of ‘mind’ milady. How is it your dam became a mistress of telepathy so suddenly? I dare it near to shook me loose from my teeth the first time!” He rubbed a finger in his ear as though in memory.
“That would be part of those changes Bannor mentioned,” Sarai responded, touching the band on her arm. “There’s quite a lot to tell. Would you like to come back to Green Run with us and catch up?”
“Bravo that milady,” Laramis said with a firm nod. He looked up at Irodee. “You agree, Jewel?”
“Of course,” she answered. “Will Wren be around?”
“Perhaps,” Sarai said. “For certain she’ll be at the get together we’re hosting for everyone in the morning. We were just fetching the staff to get that prepared. You are invited of course.”
“We accept,” Laramis said with a grin. “If there’s anything we can do to help, lead us to it—it’s a grand thing to know things will be getting back to normal.”
Normal.
Bannor sensed that in the days ahead the meaning of ‘normal’ would be turned on its ear. Still it was good just to be able to focus on little things—stories, camaraderie, and preparing for a social gathering rather than a battle…
***
The rest of the evening was spent simply slowing down and telling the tale of what had been happening over the last moon. Janai, Daena, and their guests joined them early on and a reverent Laramis and his wide-eyed wife and child were introduced to the mother-of-all. The rest of the evening, the two princesses, their ones, and all the guests sat around Sarai’s couch circle sipping at wine and fruit nectar and munching on the confections that had been secreted in various corners of the kitchen. Before late it became an evening of reminiscing as the elders regaled the youngsters with both amusing and harrowing tales. Damay shared some ribald tales of her exploits of running around with Loric when she was young. Though seemingly staid and impervious, tarkath Chauser was persuaded into sharing what was a decidedly different side of the Kriar and the kinds of elaborate pranks that great elders think up to alleviate boredom. Senalloy, showed that even the grim lives of the Baronians experienced humorous episodes from time to time as she described the various antics the commanders engaged in trying to one-up each other without bloodshed.
It was long after midnight when their gathering broke up. Irodee had bells ago tucked her daughter away in one of Sarai’s unused suites. Damay made it apparent that the robust bodies of the ascendants were not immune to the effects of strong drink. The woman had taken a great liking for the amazingly potent lotus nectar that Sarai had dug out of an old cabinet. She and mother Gaea had been hitting from the bottle heavily and the two of them were tittering like a pair of journey-maids. Janai and Daena steadied the more-than-jolly all-mother as she teetered toward the door humming some ancient tune. Damay, ever dignified, chose to hang on to Chauser’s arm for support, something that didn’t seem to bother the Kriar warrior at all. Irodee and Laramis accepted Sarai’s offer to stay over, bid them goodnight and retired to the room where their daughter was already asleep.
Bannor put his arm around Sarai as they headed toward their own room. “That was nice,” he murmured. “Really really nice.”
She leaned her head against his shoulder. “Oh yes. No pain, no cuts, no bruises… and a real bed,” she sighed. “I sooo look forward to getting used to this…”
“You will,” he said with a smile. “You will.” He scooped her up in his arms and kissed her. “Come to bed, Momma!”
She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him back. “Take me to bed, Papa!”
***
Even after the late night, Bannor rolled out of bed in the early hours. He pulled on a pair of breeches and went to the balcony doors. Rubbing his chest he slipped out onto the railed platform, feeling the bite of the cool morning air on his skin. He took a deep breath of the damp stillness of pre-dawn and let himself simply be at peace. Gazing at the pale sliver of the sun casting shafts of tangerine light into the deep azure of the eastern horizon he had to wonder at the good fortune that allowed him to be here taking in the sight. He listened to gurgle of the river, and the chirp of marsh bugs gathered in the reeds along the watercourse. Deeper in the house, he heard the click and clack of Sarai’s house staff already hard at work preparing for the gathering.
He would be fool to think that there would be too many days with nothing more to look forward to than spending time with comrades. He took solace that no matter whether it was fun, toil, or battle he would be surrounded by friends and family.
“Bannor?” came a muddled female murmur from behind him.
He turned to see his wife to be, still in sleeping silks, hair tousled and rubbing her eyes step out onto balcony.
“Morning.”
“Mmmf,” she mumbled, shuffling over to put her arms around him. “What are you doing?”
He put his arm around her. “Being peaceful.”
She rubbed her cheek against his arm. “You can do that in bed you know.”
He rubbed her back and grinned. “A different kind of peaceful.”
“Hmpf.” She murmured looking toward the sunrise. She leaned closer. “Been a while since I watched a sunrise. The colors are kind of pretty…”
“Twice as pretty with you here,” he offered.
She sighed. “Do you really think saying such trite stuff works on me?”
He grinned. “Absolutely.”
She rolled her eyes, but didn’t demur as she snuggled closer and watched with him as the light in the east grew in brightness and the interplay of colors shifted and changed.
They stayed that way for a time, then Sarai drew him inside to take a bath and prepare for the day. Refreshed and dressed they moved into the main halls where the staff of Malbraion Hall were swarming around like a nest of digger bugs, cleaning and preparing.
Psendra and Giliaja, dark circles under their
eyes but energetic, directed and organized as the hall was rearranged to accommodate a much larger than normal gathering. Arms folded, Sarai watched the two for a short time. It was obvious the two had slept little and were suffering binge pains.
The two older elves didn’t say anything to her and made active efforts to avoid her gaze. Sarai didn’t twist the knife, she let them be and set about assisting. Bannor stepped in to help a few of the male staff who were struggling to move some of the pieces of heavy ironwood furniture. The elven men gaped as Bannor leaned a hip in for balance and levered up the twenty-stone mass by himself and trundled it over to where they wanted it.
He rolled his shoulders trying to disguise the fact that he probably could have moved something double or triple that weight with little effort. He didn’t want Sarai’s people anymore leery of him than they already were.
Still dressed in a morning robe, Senalloy came out, gave them a brief greeting and disappeared into the kitchen. Bannor caught a few snippets of the elder lady’s oddly accented elvish as she negotiated with the cooking staff. A few moments later she exited with a large carafe and small basket of items that she carried out onto the terrace.
Sitting at the small stone table she nodded to them and began pulling out decanters, arranging them, and working with materials poured from small containers.
Sarai frowned at what the Baronian lady was doing until she saw her pour something dark from a red flask.
His wife to be smiled and followed the silver-haired lady. Curious, Bannor went after her.
“Quetzal laced dark root?” Sarai said with a skeptical tone. “How do you know about that?”
Grinning, Senalloy leaned back with the steaming mug in her hands. She brushed back her shiny silver hair causing it to gleam and glitter in the rosy morning light. “Sar, one thing I learned is that elves have absolutely marvelous vices.” She sipped again and sighed. “Ryelle introduced me to this one.”
“Ryelle spikes her dark root?” Sarai said with a frown. “No way.”
Senalloy shrugged. “Join me?”
Sarai looked back into the house. “We’re supposed to be helping.”
“You are? I thought princesses were supposed to stay out of the way. Ziedra and the others will be along to help soon. Pitch in then.”
Apparently, that was all the persuading Sarai needed as she scooted a chair up and poured herself some of the concoction, stirring in sweet crystal, and milk.
Bannor let himself be coaxed into trying some of the strong smelling concoction. He had never been much for dark root, but he had to admit the strong bite of quetzal blended with the sweet milk made it more palatable. The two together sure did wake a body up.
They lounged and chatted, until Daena, Ziedra, Damay, and Wren showed up to help with the last of the preparations. With four ascendants working together it was trivial matter to shift the hundred stone banquet table and carry in the extensions and other paraphernalia.
Laramis, Irodee and their daughter came out and were introduced to the new Wren. Irodee who was still bigger than Wren even in this larger incarnation studied her with a strange expression for long moments before giving her a hug. What exactly was going through the myrmigyne’s mind at that moment he couldn’t guess. He knew that Wren’s female friends were rather ardent in their admiration of the blonde savant.
After the work was done, the couples gathered together in Sarai’s conference circle and were served some morning refreshment. Ziedra was joined by her husband, Janai and Chauser joined Daena and Damay.
“So, lady Wren,” Laramis asked with his head tilted. “Is this a permanent change?”
Wren lowered her gaze, glowing blue eyes hooded. “I—I haven’t decided,” she said rubbing the back of her neck. “A big part of me says I should go back to a mortal body. Gaea says I should embrace my birthright.”
The justicar leaned back on the couch, sipping his dark root. He glanced at his wife Irodee who was cuddling their daughter and studying Wren with big dark eyes.
“I’ve already decided,” Ziedra said, fingering her now almost frost-white hair. She turned glowing magenta eyes on her golden husband who looked up at her with a smile. “Not only am I staying an ascendant, I am going to get an upgrade so my hair won’t constantly be getting bleached out.”
“I still think it’s too tempting and too dangerous,” Wren mumbled.
“And you know what?” Ziedra said with an arch expression. “I thought about it, and took what you said seriously. I talked it over with father Loric and momma Cassandra and I’m going to create limiters that will restrain my powers unless I’m in danger. I figured I could put a few people in charge of being able to turn the bindings off and on if there’s some non-dangerous need.” She shrugged. “Gaea would always be able to do it, of course.”
“You’d do that?” Wren said incredulously.
Ziedra tilted her head. “You jest. I don’t need to be able to turn mountains to rubble unless I have some wretched monster hitting me in the head. Koass said it’s mandatory that I become a Shael Dal if I remain an ascendant. They were going to be watching me anyway. I might as well devise my own moderation rather than have one stuck on me. I don’t want any accidents. My desire for a body like this is entirely vanity—I’m not afraid to admit that, but I’m not so selfish as to put anyone at risk for my indulgence.”
“That is exceedingly thoughtful,” Damay remarked, fingering one of her rings. The elder savant of forces pursed her lips. “I must admit the—feeling—of this flesh is a temptation in and of itself.”
“Does that mean you’re staying an ascendant?” Daena asked.
“I believe the needs of our future require that I not only remain an ascendant, but master all of Gaea’s gifts as well. I was not born with Wren’s natural talent with the Kel’varan Nola, so therefore I must train. No offense to Marna’s work,” she looked down at herself. “But I think I should like a body better suited to channeling magic. I plan to consult with Loric and Gaea on the matter.”
“What about you, Bannor?” Wren said, eying him. “I notice you managed to scale down, even though Gaea said you wouldn’t be able to get Kriar form shifts for a while.”
“I did my own shape shift,” he answered. “With Sen’s help,” he nodded to the silver-haired Baronian lady. The woman smiled and nodded back.
“Zounds, Man,” Laramis said. “So this is not your true appearance?”
Bannor sighed. “To be honest, I don’t have a true appearance anymore. That Baronian coven destroyed my birth body. So…” He shook his head. “No shape I take will ever be ‘true’ again. Only forms that look more or less like I was a few seasons ago.”
Irodee tilted her head. “I like how you look now. When Wren and I first met you—you had this wild animal look going on.”
“When we first met, you talked like an ignorant barbarian,” Sarai said, staring at Irodee.
The big woman grinned and brushed at her shiny black hair. “Now, if I had talked like a Malanian academy graduate you would never have said the things around me that you did. Is it my fault that people assume tall folk have little brains?”
“It is fiendishly deceptive, my Dear,” Laramis chided. “And somewhat confusing at times. I know you were trying not to let me catch you speaking in that monosyllabic polyglot.”
“You folk have never lived among the clans,” Irodee told them. “It was bad enough my sisters already treated me like I had a third arm growing out of my head.”
Little Marta laughed and hugged her mother.
Irodee shook her head. “My chi-cheena Ess, sent me to school to get me away from all the clan pressure. It really didn’t make it better though because then all the sisters figured I would think myself better than them. I had to talk and act dumb to even get along.”
“It sure worked on us,” Ziedra said, shaking her head. “I felt like an idiot. So, Bannor, can you translate for us. Does that mean you’re staying an ascendant?”
“I confess my
mind is much like Wren’s. I neither want nor need the power of an ascendant. My abilities as a savant were dangerous enough.”
“He’s not jesting there,” Wren chimed in. “Did you notice though Bannor, that the whole time you have had the power of an ascendant, you never once misfired your nola. Not even one time.”
“I—” He stopped, and glanced at Sarai. “Wait…” He scratched his head, brow furrowing. “You’re right. The only time it did something unpredictable was when I deliberately let it loose. Huh.”
“Well, since it is well within our power now,” Sarai said. “He is going to at least live long enough to see his half-elf daughter’s puberty!”
“And how long is that, when Vhina is half immortal and half elf?” Daena asked.
Sarai shrugged. “Frankly, I don’t care. He’s not allowed to turn gray until she’s out of toddler’s braids.”
He frowned at Sarai and she met his gaze with a serious expression.
“Whoa,” Daena breathed. “That could be like—” She grinned. “Forever.”
“Hardly, forever,” Janai said. “Three or four decades though.”
“Decades?” Bannor repeated. He scrubbed his forehead. He hated it when elves threw around spans of time like that. He wasn’t yet three decades old now. He would be sixty or even seventy before his daughter got her first maiden’s blood? He shook his head. He heard about some fathers not wanting their daughters to grow up, but this… He still hadn’t wrapped his mind around it.
“If you can age gracefully, I would advise doing so,” Damay said. “After fifty seasons, the winters just get harder and harder. Trust me. A life of rough and tumble approaching sixty—every little bump and jostle hurts. Wounds never seem to heal, and you always seem to be catching your breath… I suppose it builds character… but I can think of better ways…” Her voice trailed off.
Bannor noticed that Wren was staring at Damay.
Anything the blonde ascendant planned to say was interrupted by the entrance of Gaea and the other members of the Kergatha family.
The green mother came dressed in layers of purple, with highlights of shear black silk sequined with jewels. Golden thread beaded with red stones had been woven through her long dark tresses, causing fiery sparkles to dance in the glossy strands as she moved.
Reality's Plaything 5: The Infinity Annihilator Page 66
