The Glaseah said nothing for several moments. “Arii….”
“I am not incapable of recognizing my own errors,” Jahir said, and added, sheepish, “I hope.”
“Oh, arii.” Vasiht’h shook his head, his expression soft. “This really is good for you, this trip. I’m so glad.”
“I can’t promise I will always succeed in being better with the self-care,” Jahir said. “But having had it pointed out to me, I cannot leave it unattended. It would be unfair to those who love me.”
“For once, I am completely behind your sense of duty on this one.” Vasiht’h grinned. “And next time I see Lisinthir I’ll have to give him a hug for this. I’ve been working on you and food since I met you.”
“He will enjoy your gratitude, no doubt,” Jahir said. “I find you still on Tam-ley, I believe? I don’t know how time is advancing there versus here. You are still having a good time?”
“Very,” Vasiht’h said. “In some ways, I think this may be the more important stop. If I’m thinking about starting a family, I have to reconnect with my own, and… well, Sehvi’s the easiest for me. Sehvi and my parents. They’re the ones I’m closest to.”
“And you are liking your time with your nephews.”
“They are…” Vasiht’h trailed off, laughed. “They’re… I can’t even describe it. I love them. I really didn’t know how much living you do when you’re chasing children around. But it’s a lot of work, arii, which is one of the reasons I’ve been staying longer than I planned. Sehvi’s letting me help out around the house so I get a feel for what I’m getting into, and… it’s not minor.”
“I imagine not,” Jahir said, fascinated by the change in his partner’s expressions. Would that the mindline was still thick enough to bring him the feelings that rested beneath those sparks in the Glaseah’s eyes! “I never did ask if the Glaseah always had multiple children per birth.”
“It’s how most of us do it who choose to reproduce, yes. I’m told that it’s easier with more than one, in some ways… they entertain one another, and they learn from one another as much as they learn from you. It gives them a broader social dynamic to build off of.” Vasiht’h was stroking a finger on the desk absentmindedly, a gesture Jahir hadn’t seen before. “When the priests and priestesses reproduce for the temple, they usually only go with one child at a time. But that’s a special case. I think I’d prefer the big family model, myself.”
“So would I,” Jahir said, and added, hastily, “If I am allowed an opinion…”
“Of course you are! They’re going to grow up knowing you as family, arii. You’re going to end up helping me with them. Your opinion matters, though I admit, I was expecting you to prefer the quieter option.”
“Arranging our life around any child will constitute the real disruption, I would think,” Jahir said. “The number of them at that point only matters in terms of logistics and… I believe you have said you will no longer cavil at sharing finances more equitably?”
Vasiht’h sighed, chuckled. “I did, didn’t I? But I am betting it’s going to be much easier to say yes to being rich if it’s on behalf of my kits. Though that’s going to bring its own challenges.”
“Those being?”
“Oh, people who grow up knowing they can have anything they want?” Vasiht’h’s brows lifted. “Tell me you don’t know that creates trouble.”
“I suppose it does,” Jahir murmured, and smiled. “But I am still looking forward to it. And would vastly prefer that challenge to the one of not having enough.”
“I think I would too,” Vasiht’h admitted, grinning at him. “We’ll have to make sure they’re not spoiled somehow.”
“We will find a way.”
“We always have.” Vasiht’h considered him, nodded. “You really are doing better. I can tell.”
“There is a great deal going on here that is only peripherally related to the tryst I thought we would be spending most of our time on,” Jahir admitted.
Vasiht’h snorted. “Why am I not surprised.”
“Eldritch?” Jahir offered, modest.
Vasiht’h laughed. “Yes! Yes, you are. Both of you. Will you call me again?”
“Probably.”
“Then I’ll look forward to it.”
Jahir smiled. “I will also. Arii—”
“I love you too.” Vasiht’h grinned and turned the connection off, leaving Jahir to think they might not need the mindline to know one another well enough for everything that mattered. And then to wonder why he hadn’t tried to reach for his partner with his new talent. Could it stretch across parsecs? The idea was astonishing. But if using such an ability required energy, he could only imagine the fatigue of making the attempt, and yet… how useful would it be, to be able?
Truly, Lisinthir had corrupted him, if he could now think only of the benefits of being a mind-mage out of legend. But Vasiht’h would be the first to tell him otherwise.
Time to himself… an unexpected luxury. Would it be inappropriate to read medical journals? And yet, he was what he was. Perhaps he would read them in the bath as a concession to his cousin’s expectations. Smiling, he went to run the water.
“That your partner?” Kovihs asked as Vasiht’h flopped back into the hollow space his weight had created during the night.
“Yes. He’s fine.” Vasiht’h dug in until his side was pressed against his sister’s mate’s back. Kovihs’s family line lacked the wings on the lower body, unlike Vasiht’h’s. Known as sef-Glaseah, they were a variation on the original winged pattern, but though the Pelted gengineers had intended the winglessness to breed true and eventually eliminate the awkwardness of the original design, they hadn’t counted on the Glaseah preferring themselves the way the Goddess had first dreamt them. After being subjected to their creations’ polite but unswerving opinions, the designers had made the winged trait dominant and the sef remained rare, centuries later.
Having not known a sef-Glaseah intimately until now, Vasiht’h had never appreciated how much easier the lack of wings made sleeping arrangements. “Sehvi decided not to come back to bed?”
“Nah. Even though the kits are old enough to get their own breakfast and entertain themselves if we want to sleep in, she never feels right about leaving them up alone.”
Vasiht’h snorted. “Since I’m sure their idea of breakfast is leftover cake and milk, I can see why she’d feel that way.”
“Milk is healthy!” Kovihs said. “Besides, you can’t blame them for reaching for the easiest thing. They’re old enough to get out their own plates, but that doesn’t make them old enough to cook anything useful.”
“It was cookies for me,” Vasiht’h said, amused. “My mother liked cookies.”
“Hah! I liked fruit.”
“Fruit!” Vasiht’h eyed his brother-in-law over the shoulder. “Snitching healthy food doesn’t count.”
“It does if you only liked it baked into crumbles, strudels, or pie,” was the smug reply.
Laughing, Vasiht’h said, “All right. Granted.”
Their mirth bled into companionable quiet. It was customary for Glaseahn families to sleep in piles, and Vasiht’h hadn’t been surprised to have been invited into Sehvi’s. The children were restless, and at least one of them—Vasiht’h hadn’t figured out which yet—was a kicker, but once everyone quieted the room had felt like home: dense with the smell of fur and warm from the combined body-heat. The sound of everyone breathing had brought back memories of how no matter when he woke up, there was always at least one person amid all the other sleepers who was also awake. No nightmares among their family: you were never left alone long enough for them to develop fangs.
Sehvi’s family might be small by the standards of the one they’d been born to, but only because she was just starting. And Vasiht’h, who’d acclimated to sleeping in a room with only one other occupant, found it revelatory how much he’d missed it.
“So, ariihir.”
Vasiht’h cocked an ear back towar
d his brother-in-law.
“Tell me what you’re planning.”
“Kovihs?”
“Sehvi’s told me you want kits. You don’t have a friend to marry, though, do you? You’re going to go through the priests.”
“I… yes. I think that would work best for me. I’ve already got a partner.”
“That Eldritch,” Kovihs said. “Just one person.”
Vasiht’h lifted a brow at that. “What’s on your mind, exactly?”
“It’s good to have you around. And it makes Sehvi and the boys happy to have you. You know that. So I’m waiting for you to tell us that you want to arrange a group household, so we can support each other.”
It was surprising that his pulse could accelerate so quickly over something so minor. But it wasn’t minor, was it? “I haven’t said anything to Sehvi—”
“I’m sure you haven’t because you don’t want to disrupt our life.” Kovihs sighed. “And you know, a few years ago I would have resented the imposition, and not wanted any part of it.”
“But something changed.”
The other male chuckled. “Yes. Me. We get older, ariihir, and we realize that living among aliens is fun but a strain. I’ve been thinking for a while that I wished we had more contact with other Glaseah, and feeling like… balancing my career with my family was getting to be too much of a zero-sum game. Having you here even for a few days has been comfortable. I like having you sleeping at my back.” A grin. “For one thing, you don’t kick like Joreht.”
“Oh, so he’s the culprit?”
Kovihs laughed. “Don’t tell him I said so.”
“I won’t.” Vasiht’h fell silent, measuring the pressure of the other Glaseah’s spine against his side, the warmth of it, the safety. “I miss this too.”
“But?”
“I don’t think there’s a but,” Vasiht’h said. “Except possibly that figuring out how to fit our lives together won’t be easy.”
“We’re thinking about it. Thinking is the first step toward actualizing.”
“The Goddess would say so.”
Kovihs chuckled. “Which is why we worship Her. She’s sensible.”
“Who’s sensible?” Sehvi demanded, darkening the entrance. “You’d better be talking about me.”
“We’re talking about the Goddess,” Vasiht’h said.
“Oh, all right. I guess it’s acceptable to hold Her above me.”
“Only conceptually,” Kovihs promised, tail flicking in amusement. “You are obviously Her embodiment in flesh.”
“You see why I married him,” Sehvi said, flopping down alongside her spouse and draping her upper torso across his lower shoulders. “That and the winglessness. It’s so much more convenient, not having to watch where I put my arms.”
Vasiht’h laughed as Kovihs sighed the long-suffering sigh of the afflicted.
“So what was all the serious talk?”
“I was trying to convince your brother that we want him as part of our household.”
“Oh!” Sehvi eyed him over her husband’s back. “Yes, that would be the hard part. That and convincing him that us living next door to him and his Eldritch wouldn’t be a problem for us.”
“Living next to each other isn’t the same thing as living with each other,” Vasiht’h said.
“But it’s a workable compromise,” Sehvi said. “Given your lordling’s need for privacy and space.”
Vasiht’h eyed them both. “You’ve discussed this already.”
“Let’s just say it’s occurred to us?” She grinned at him. “Really the only issue here is Kovihs’s research, which he’s almost done with. And he may be able to do the last of it remotely, depending on how fast you want to move on this.” Sehvi propped her cheek in her palm, and seeing it Vasiht’h realized just where he’d gotten the mannerism. Or perhaps they’d both gotten it from their mother. Or grandmother?
“It’s hard to do without family,” Vasiht’h said, quiet.
“It’s impossible if you want to raise more than one kit and stay sane,” Sehvi said. “You don’t know that yet, but you’re going to find out, ariihir. Why, when I went out there this morning the three of them were building a spiderweb—”
“This should be good,” Kovihs murmured.
“—that completely blocked Kovihs’s entire office,” Sehvi finished. “Out of quick-stick glue.”
“What!” Kovihs exclaimed, bolting upright.
“I thought I’d let you handle that one,” she said serenely.
After her husband had lunged from the room, Vasiht’h said, “You stopped them, I’m guessing.”
“Of course I did. But every once in a while it’s a good idea to remind him how much I do around the house.” She grinned. “I get bigger presents on Mother’s Eve that way.”
Vasiht’h laughed and hugged her. “Terrible.”
“I am, I know it.” Resting her head on his shoulder, she added, “You know you want us to come live with you. All you have to do is tell us where and when and we’ll be there with bells on.”
“I know,” Vasiht’h said, quiet. “If I knew exactly what I was planning…”
“You don’t yet. But you will. And when you do….”
He kissed the top of her head.
There were so many bars in the Hull’s chasm-like market that Lisinthir could have patronized a new one every day for a month… but he found he liked the minimalist ones that hugged the banisters of the walkways, the ones that were nothing more than a set of stools and an abbreviated counter. People perched there, had a quick drink, and were swept away again by the stream on their way to the lifts, the stairs, or their destinations.
The one he chose hugged the catwalk at the transition between it and the corridors leading toward the habitations, so it had one tiny corner where he could put his back to a wall. No doubt his cousin would chastise him for imbibing, but he found he wanted the alcohol... not to indulge a craving, but to continue his efforts to sever the addiction he’d developed on the Chatcaavan throneworld from the pleasure he’d once taken in the occasional drink. Like most men of his class he’d had access to a fine cellar, and been obliged by tradition to partake not just for social occasions, but religious ones as well. He’d liked the taste, once upon a time, and cared about flavor, texture, bouquet. The thought that his stint as an ambassador might have dulled that sensitivity was disagreeable.
Besides, his tolerance had been greatly magnified by his adventures with Chatcaavan liquor. If he could afford now to sample more before he was impaired, surely he owed it to his palate to re-educate it.
“A man with a great deal on his mind,” the bartender offered. “You want a refill?”
He glanced at his drink: seltzer water and some liquor made from an astringent seaweed native to Seersana, brightened by a twist of lime. “Not yet, thank you.”
“Passing through or here to stay?”
Watching the crowd, Lisinthir said, “Passing through.”
She chuckled, wiping down the thin counter. But he liked that she didn’t press. She had a breezy demeanor, lacking in attachment…to be expected, perhaps, in one of the usually nomadic Aera. She was making conversation with a patron, that was all. So he said, “Would you use a friend to save the worlds?”
She clicked her tongue against her sharp teeth. “Guess it would depend.”
Not the answer he’d been expecting. Intrigued, he said, “On?”
“Whether the friend wanted to be used.” The tattoos lining the insides of her ears were detailed with tiny gemstones that flashed when she splayed her ears and grinned at him with her long muzzle.
“I would have thought it would be more concerning,” Lisinthir said. “Being a user.”
She refilled the bowl of salted seeds nearest him. “That makes it all about you, though. Who cares what you do or don’t? What about them? Don’t they get a say? That’s what I’d ask. Their body, their fate. Their decisions.”
“Even though you could stop them?
”
She shook her head. “Who am I to stop anyone? The only hero in my story is me. Everyone else’s actions are their business.” She arched a brow. “You sure you don’t need a refill?”
Lisinthir chuckled. “No. I am entirely certain I’m fine.”
She left him to his devices then, and he did not re-open the conversation. He didn’t need to; he’d made his decision the moment he’d turned his back on his cousin.
He’d honestly believed nothing would change his mind, having seen Jahir’s reaction not just to becoming a mind-mage, but to violence in general. He’d decided he would indulge Jahir’s desire to prepare for his supposed entrance into the fight, do everything in his power to abet that preparation in case some freak chance catapulted his cousin into the turmoil despite everything Lisinthir could do to prevent it. As recently as this morning, Lisinthir had been convinced that Jahir’s ambivalence would be the death of him, and anyone who depended on him.
With the instincts that had kept him alive in the court of dragons, he knew everything had changed. As suddenly as a sparring session, a sobbed confession in a shower, and a probe about the language... all that he’d thought would take weeks, possibly months, to accomplish had happened, all on its own.
Paying for the drink involved a swipe of his palm, and then he was on his way down into the Trenches. He would be back with Jahir in tow soon enough, to pick up the knife and choose the restraints that would keep his cousin from hurting himself by accident during their lovemaking. But that was the gift Jahir was expecting. This second was the one he wasn’t, and Lisinthir had planned it so that he could offer it as an innocuous token exchanged between lovers… or as a conduit for the tool he now knew had become essential.
He was Galare, and Hunter. He found the pattern on the edge of the blade, and when he did, he knew it.
The jeweler came out of the backroom to meet him when he approached the counter. “My lord,” said the Hinichi, a grizzled male with the most articulate and beautiful hands Lisinthir had ever seen. “I assume you have come to arrange the modifications you mentioned when you first gave me the commission.”
Amulet Rampant Page 27
