In Which Isidro Gets an Update

February 20, 1177

"Well, you're not quite as playful as your sister was, are you?" Jadin asked his son as he bounced him up and down--to the boy's slight distaste, at least so far as Isidro could see. "Oh well. Your Uncle Lonriad was a tiny, sickly little thing too--and look how well he turned out!"

The baby wore some primitive look of horror that Isidro might have found funny had he been in a laughing sort of mood. In his own arms, Shahira rested her head on his shoulder and tugged at his hair. It was the only thing keeping him sane. "Are you really that keen on raising a boy like Lonriad?"

"In this family, it's pretty much inevitable." Jadin lifted Dalston to his face and tried to nuzzle noses; Dalston only wailed. "And if not this one, it'll be the next--which could be pretty soon, come to think of it. I swear to God, Xeta's trying to ride me to an early grave."

"Ride?" Alya dropped one of Lyssa's dolls, allowing her cousin to reclaim it. "Uncle Jadin, are you a horse?"

Lyssa giggled and Shahira gave an inquisitive glance. Isidro returned it with a strained grimace as Jadin snickered. "Yes, Alya. Uncle Jadin is a very happy horse."

That was a mental image that wasn't going anywhere any time soon. "So we're sharing adult anecdotes in front of the children now, are we?"

"I am," Jadin corrected him, not taking his eyes off of little Dalston. "You can't, because you're married to my sister and if you say anything about her, I'll box you. And if you say anything about some other woman, I'll box you even harder. Oh, and speaking of sisters--and Brothers--I saw Lorn yesterday."

"Oh?" About damn time. Isidro had been over there every morning that week, only to be sent away at the door by an irate Aldhein on the grounds that 'the investigation was still in progress'. He'd tried sending a few other people on his behalf--Sparron, Raia, Had--but none of them had fared any better. Frankly, he didn't know how Lorn couldn't see it. Well, unless this Remiel character was a much better actor than he'd bothered to let Isidro know.

Jadin nodded. "He sent a letter off to Brother Remiel's old monastery. Apparently the man keeps to himself and the only person around who seems to really know him is that kid--who can't talk. The letter's his best chance; it'll probably take another week or so, but at least he's doing something."

Isidro frowned while Shahira squirmed, trying to climb up onto his shoulder. Another week or so. Who knew how many women a priest could see in a week? Far too many. At least Riona had the sense to stay away, and at least Severin had told Vera to keep her distance. Still. Not everyone was lucky enough to know better. "I hope he's at least keeping an eye on the man while he waits."

"I'll say." After a loving look for the girls on the floor, Jadin lowered Dalston into his crib and sighed. "So... what if nothing comes up? Are you just going to drop it, or...?" He trailed off, leaving Isidro to fill it in for himself.

A tiny fist clenched the fabric of Isidro's tunic. Shahira pawed herself to the level of his cheek and endowed it with a sloppy kiss. He returned it with a squeeze, then locked eyes with Jadin and shook his head. "I don't care if he has a cleaner record than Christ himself; I'm not raising my daughters in a country where men like that don't get what's coming to them."

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