She started at a knock on the door. She wasn’t expecting a visitor, and there was no one of any consequence in Avaret. Even some of the servants had headed out to Seffa to say farewell to Elsba.
“Yes?” she replied cautiously. She left the door unlocked because it was too cumbersome to open it when her own servant brought a meal or such. But her servant never knocked.
“Lorain, it’s Tazori.”
Tazori? All the way from his holding in the northernmost regions of Garla?
“Come in. It’s unlocked, and I’m too swollen to move.” She laughed but knew as soon as she did so that no one would ever believe that laugh arose from amusement.
Tazori, his sleek, dark hair lightly brushing his shoulders, stepped in to stand in front of her, pulled a chair around and sat down. “Creators, you’re nearly there.”
“It’s hard to ignore,” she replied with a wry smile.
“No, seriously, Lorain. Do you want me to stay? I was on my way to Seffa, but I don’t have to go.”
“Yes, you do. I want you here for the outcoming, but since I can’t go to that damn funeral, I need someone’s eyes there. The funeral’s in three days; the baby won’t emerge for a week. You can be back in plenty of time.”
“Are you sure?”
Lorain nodded, her weariness leaving her weak. “Your uncle stops by nearly every day. He worries, I think, about me being here by myself.”
“He would.”
“No, really. You go. I’ve got a servant, a new guard every eight hours and the Primate of Avaret keeping watch over me.”
Tazori stood, leaned over and kissed Lorain on the forehead. “I’ll be back,” he promised. “And I’ll keep an eye on everyone while I’m in Seffa,” he added as he headed out the door.
Lorain waved, not turning around to watch him leave. Her body wouldn’t move in that direction anymore anyway. Damn, how she hated this. On the other hand, a week was a week. She could be reasonable. And then all she’d have to do is wait for word from the Thristans and her place—along with her son’s—would be assured.
Yes, she thought. And now I’m hungry.
CHAPTER TEN
An Heir emerges
Pharaoh powered his way back to the stable, Ariannas astride him, both of them reveling in the freedom of letting everything go on the wide paths through the park. Two guards had followed the Empir at a distance, keeping watch that no one jumped out of the foliage and attacked her. Ariannas thought this ridiculous as her only enemy was, at this moment, indisposed awaiting the emergence of her first child.
She pulled Pharaoh to a halt at the door to the stable, tossed the reins to the hand there, and, throwing her leg over Pharaoh’s neck, slid from the saddle to land on the ground. It made her smile every time she accomplished that. She felt born to the life of riding a great big black horse that required more care than she did. Of course, she was born to this life, but that didn’t mean she’d managed to make it her own yet.
She tossed the crop to one of the other stable hands and marched back to the Keep. Work awaited her there in the form of continuing her study of her mother’s papers. She’d reached the point in her reading where she had begun looking for the supporting documents her mother referred to—laws and speeches and such—and not only her mother’s writings, but the writings of distant ancestors. She’d filled her mind with so much information that she wished she could go out to a local computer store and purchase more memory. But she had taken detailed notes and believed she could eventually own this knowledge.
She didn’t change from her ride, heading instead straight to her office via Jazel’s, but before she could step through the door to her inner sanctum, Jazel stopped her.
“My Liege, Holder Corday has returned and is waiting for you.”
Ariannas’ stomach dropped to somewhere south of her knees. She’d put off the thought of his return after the funeral in Seffa. She’d accomplished this with such success that she’d completely forgotten that this was the day he was likely to arrive.
“Thank you, Jazel. See that we’re not disturbed.”
“Aye, my Liege.”
And with a deep breath, Ariannas opened the door and stepped into the room that felt more and more like home every day.
“Welcome back,” she said going straight to her desk. She couldn’t bring herself to even look at him.
Nalin stood up from the conference table and walked towards her. “Thank you, my Liege.”
“How was the funeral?” She sat down, set her riding gloves on top of some papers and finally looked up at him. He looked refreshed, like he’d gotten back a few hours ago and had cleaned up before coming to see her. He wore a fresh tunic in Corday light blue, and his hair fell loose about his shoulders.
“Suitable to a much-beloved holder,” he replied as he reached the chair in front of her. She gestured for him to sit, and he did so.
“I’m sorry I couldn’t stay.”
“I know.” He fiddled with a thread on the chair arm as he continued. “I told Bala the truth.” Ariannas started to protest, but he held his hand up and stopped her. “No, it helped her. She saw you at your worst after Jozan was murdered. She knows better than anyone the cost to your soul that resulted from her aunt’s manipulations.”
“I should have stayed. Elsba deserved better than that.”
“Well then, you’ll be pleased to know that the funeral was well attended, including Lorain’s friends, Tazori Dors and Pretor Cabell.”
“According to Commander Tanres, a guard saw Dors visiting Lorain a few days before the funeral.”
Nalin raised an eyebrow. “Probably getting last-minute instructions since she couldn’t go and see for herself.”
Ariannas nodded. “And now we’re just a few days away from my niece or nephew’s emergence. I’ve received an invitation to attend, I guess because I’m the child’s aunt. Is that what usually happens?” She lifted the invitation up from one of the stacks on her desk, waved it once, then set it down again.
Nalin nodded. “Family. And a friend or two, depending on the number of family members.”
“Lorain has no family here.”
“Then I’m sure you’ll be joined by Tazori and perhaps Pretor as well.”
“And what do we do?” she asked. “Just sit and watch?”
“You celebrate with the parents, or, in this case, the parent, as the baby reveals itself. It’s usually a party—a quiet one, but a party nevertheless.”
“Ah.” She nodded. “I have no idea how any of this works. Raised in the haven with all those celibate hermits, I only know how four-foots make babies.” She still couldn’t bring herself to discuss Earth with anybody. Especially the fact that her education into the mysteries of reproduction had occurred on a world where the two-foots functioned like four-foots did here. Her memories of Earth had begun to grow distant, and explaining actually stepping foot on a world other than this world felt too difficult to contemplate.
“Then you should go.”
“I was going to. It’s my only Heir at the moment, after all.”
This quick back-and-forth exchange of information felt like salt ground into a wound. Despite Nalin’s willingness to set aside her premature departure from Seffa, it weighed on her, and she didn’t know how to dislodge it.
“Anything else while I was gone?”
Ariannas sighed, looked down at the mish-mash of papers spread all over her desk. “No, just researching some of the documents Flandari referred to in her scrolls. Dry work, but informative.” And the quick talk rolled on. “I’ve written down a few questions.”
“Let’s tackle them after lunch. If that’s acceptable.”
“Of course.”
“You keep writing down questions, and I’ll be back this afternoon.” With a smile, Nalin rose from the chair and departed.
Ariannas watched the door close behind him and wondered if she’d ever find her way out of this hole she’d dug herself into. She’d done what she had to do;
she’d conquered the tyrant. But lacking the skills to take Ariel on with sword or knife in the Arena, she’d dealt with him the only way she could. She wished for a magical spell to relieve her of the guilt, but even though she tried not to think about it, in the days since she’d left Seffa, she’d come to realize that her anger at Eloise was nowhere near as vicious as her anger at herself.
Enough. There was nothing she could do. She’d killed her brother, pushed him to kill himself, and it was over. She buried the memory—and her feelings with it—and returned to her mother’s papers. An afternoon of questions and answers with Nalin loomed before her, and she might as well make sure she was prepared.
Three days later, Ariannas was still asking Nalin questions, but this time she inquired regarding her emergence gift for Holder Zanlot.
“Are you sure this is right?” she asked him, holding the nursing sling up in front of her. Made of Ilazer green cloth with the Ilazer crest upon it—a crevix in black—she couldn’t figure out how it worked, much less what it was for. But Nalin had insisted that this was the present for the niece or nephew Lorain Zanlot was about to introduce to its aunt, the Empir, as well as the world.
“You’ll see how it works before the day’s over,” Nalin replied. “Now, fold it and put it back in the box. Carefully. No wrinkles.”
“And when did I turn into the servant in this relationship?”
Nalin sighed, so heavily that Ariannas knew he was about to mock her. “Here. I’ll do it.” He grabbed the nursing sling from her and folded it up like he’d been doing it all of his life. After placing the folded sling in a carved wooden box, he handed the box to her and leaned back in his chair at the conference table. “You should go. Never wise to arrive tardy to outcoming gatherings. You don’t want to miss the big moment.”
They rose from the table, Ariannas grabbing the box, and walked together to the door to the hall.
“This could get interesting,” she commented, hesitating at the door.
“More than interesting I’d say. Wish I could go with you.”
“Oh, could you? Then I wouldn’t have to figure out how to make conversation with people I don’t know.”
“You were only invited because you’re the father’s sister and the Empir. I don’t remember the invitation saying, ‘And bring that Nalin fellow who’s such a pest with you.’”
She took a deep breath and opened the door.
“Oh, and be sure to ask the guard at the old palace door to take action if he hears anything amiss,” Nalin suggested
“All right, but I doubt Lorain’s going to be in the mood to do me harm with a new baby in the room.”
And so, with gift in hand and her stomach aflutter, Ariannas Ilazer left the Keep, headed down its steps and across the plaza to the old palace. She felt like an ignorant child who had to pretend nothing she was about to see surprised her, but she suspected a great many surprises awaited her in Lorain’s chamber today.
She reached the door to the old palace and entered the building. With Nalin’s directions in mind, she turned right, heading down the hall, and went to the second door, also to the right. She took a deep breath, knocked lightly twice and waited.
The door blew open, and Holder Dors greeted her.
“My Liege. Lorain, the Empir is here,” he said, turning his head to speak into the room.
“Well, let her in,” Ariannas heard Holder Zanlot respond from inside.
“Oh, forgive me, my Liege. Please come in. Join us. We believe she’s just reached the cusp.”
‘The cusp?’ Ariannas thought. What the hell is ‘the cusp’? Well, this must be where the pretending begins.
“Oh, wonderful,” she said, faking enthusiasm. She stepped in, and Dors closed the door behind her. Another man stood up from one end of the couch, and at the other end she saw what she believed was the top of Zanlot’s head. In the corner, sitting on a chair and looking uncomfortable, Ariannas saw a hermit, presumably a healer. His eyes brushed past her quickly and then looked away again. He was here for Lorain, not for her, just in case.
“My Liege,” Holder Dors said. “Do you know Pretor Cabell?”
“No. But I do know his sister, Melanda. She’s on my privy council.”
“My Liege, welcome,” Holder Zanlot said. She sounded a little weak, perhaps even breathless, and Ariannas stepped around the couch and confronted the reality of unpouching directly. A stack of pillows elevated the holder’s head and back, and her feet rested upon the couch. Her bulging pouch rippled like poor John Hurt’s belly in Alien before the alien chewed its way out. She shivered. “Pretor, move,” Zanlot ordered. “Let our Empir sit with me.”
Melanda’s brother jumped from where he stood at Holder Zanlot’s feet and gestured to Ariannas.
“Thank you,” she managed as she sat down gingerly at the end of the couch. She held the box with the gift on her lap. “So, you’re at the cusp,” Ariannas stated as though she knew what that meant. The entire situation was painfully awkward, and she suspected that this was why Zanlot had invited her—any opportunity to place Ariel’s murderer in a state of unease.
“Yes.” Holder Zanlot pulled her tunic up and exposed the stretched pouch. “See the hair. It’s your brother’s color.”
There it was, the top of the head, and yes, it was Ariel’s auburn. Ariannas wondered if Lorain knew the child’s gender yet. Was there a way to know while it was still in the pouch? She’d watched several of the pouched parents in Thristas reaching down inside to touch the child they carried. Question was—could they reach down far enough to determine the sex?
“I brought a present,” she said and offered the box to Lorain.
“Thank you, my Liege,” the holder replied, taking the box. “That wasn’t necessary. Your presence here is present enough.”
Wiggly worms slithered up and down Ariannas’ spine. Zanlot being cordial to her? It seemed absurd. They said pouching did things to a parent; perhaps the outcoming had an effect as well.
“Nalin said it would be useful. Growing up in a haven, I wouldn’t know.”
The holder opened the box and pulled out the nursing sling. She unfolded it and gasped. “Oh, my Liege. This is so good of you.”
Yes, it was, Ariannas thought. Nalin had explained the symbolism to her. The Ilazer green, the crevix crest—these implied an acceptance of the baby’s status as an Ilazer Heir. He’d also told her that it would please Lorain beyond words. Not quite, she thought, but close.
“Oooooh,” Zanlot moaned softly. “He’s coming. I think he’s coming now.”
Activity erupted, but Ariannas sat, a still focus amidst the bustle. She contemplated the holder’s use of the pronoun “he.” So it was a boy. And Lorain knew. That answered one question—one out of about a million others.
Holder Dors knelt beside Holder Zanlot and offered her a blanket—an Ilazer green blanket—but with no crest on it. Ariannas assumed that this had been Dors’ gift for the occasion. Pretor Cabell stepped forward to stand behind Dors, and he held a folded piece of cloth that appeared to be thick and absorbent. Baby’s first diaper, she thought.
“Yes, yes, come to me, sweet boy,” Zanlot cooed as she reached her hands to the child emerging from her pouch. Ariannas didn’t want to stare, but since no one was paying attention to her, they’d never notice.
Despite her dislike of its participants, the scene unfolding before her was moving—a parent encouraging her child to join the world while friends encouraged the parent. Ariannas watched as the baby pulled its way from the pouch, using Lorain’s belly fur. From the way she understood it, about four months ago, this same infant, tiny and pink, had crawled in on its own; now, it worked to gain its independence, again unassisted.
It appeared to be the same size as a newborn Earth child, but there was one significant difference. This baby’s skin sported a coating of fine, downy fur, lighter red in color than the hair on its head. She wondered about that for a moment and then realized it might have served to protect th
e child in the pouch from cold and extreme changes in temperature. Interesting. So much about this intrigued her, and questions bubbled up she’d want to discuss with Nalin later, if she could remember them all.
“So. I have a nephew.”
“Oh, yes, my Liege. And here he is.” The holder lifted this new child, allowed Tazori to wrap it in the blanket and then sat up and foisted the newly emerged baby on his aunt. The child whimpered a bit but didn’t cry. Everyone seemed fine with this, so Ariannas decided that a child who had been breathing for months on its own didn’t need to cry because it hadn’t just discovered air for the first time.
She looked into her nephew’s blue eyes and wondered if they’d stay that way or change. The questions just kept rolling in upon her like waves upon a beach, receding again as newer questions broke upon her mind’s shore.
“He’s beautiful,” she said, and he was. Unlike human babies who arrived oftentimes with heads misshapen from the journey through the birth canal and covered in all kinds of gook, this child cradled into her arms as though he’d been around for a while—clean, dry and every part in the proper place. “You have a name for him?”
“Yes, my Liege. May I have him back?”
Ariannas handed the baby back to his mother and watched as Zanlot sat up straight on the couch, put her feet onto the floor and stood up. She held the child out in front of her.
“In remembrance of your father,” Lorain proclaimed in a ritualistic tone, “I relinquish my claim as pouching parent and name you Elor.”
“Welcome, Elor,” Holder Dors and Pretor Cabell answered in unison, with Ariannas mumbling softly after them.
This child has no father because of me, she thought, then found herself fascinated as Lorain pulled the baby back down to her chest. She held the little boy tenderly, and Ariannas realized for the first time the wonder of what she’d witnessed here in this room. And that she’d been invited—that, too, left her amazed. She didn’t know what the tradition or protocol was, but amazed or not, she couldn’t bring herself to stay any longer. She had to leave. Now.
Blooded (Lisen of Solsta Book 3) Page 11
