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May 4, 1180
The first thing Tavrin noticed about the duchess was an improbable appearance of youth. She was the same age as Raia's father, so Raia had said, and given what Tavrin knew about who had been in Naroni for how long, that sounded about right. Raia's father had aged well for a human, but he hadn't escaped the occasional grey hair or the lines around the mouth or the bags beneath the eyes--not like this lady, for whom such signs still had yet to appear. Her only aged quality was her worry, in her eyes, in her mouth, in the way she held herself. In face, she was a maiden; in being, she was a mother.
And that was exactly why he'd come. "My lady."
The duchess frowned, but not impolitely. It was not disdain upon her lips, but a question. "Good sir. Forgive me, but if you are who I think you are, I understand you don't speak the language well?"
"Oh, that's not a concern. I actually mastered the language a couple years back, and I've grown bored with pretending I don't speak it."
He winked; she gave him a polite smile for his trouble, but nothing more. "I see. Is there something I can do for you?"
"Yes, actually. I'm here on behalf of my grandfather."
"Uh..." The corners of her mouth crept downward, one shoulder shuddering. "Your grandfather, the homicidal maniac?"
"Yes, him." The duchess swallowed. Tavrin figured it wasn't entirely undeserved, but pressed on anyway. "It turns out that the two of you could possibly do each other a favor."
Her discomfort reformed itself into a prominent bend in her eyebrow. "No disrespect to the messenger, but I don't think your grandfather has any right to ask a favor of me. He did kill my first husband."
"Yes, well... that certainly is awkward." She blinked, as if to reply with a muttered 'I'll say'. "But please let me explain; no harm will come to you should you decline, but I'm sure you'll find the agreement to be mutually beneficial."
Just looking at her, he wasn't sure if she believed him. But she sighed and handed him the benefit of the doubt. "I'm listening."
"Thank you. You see--"
"You!"
Oh. It seemed that he'd been followed.
"Mind explaining why you can't steal someone else's clothes for a change?"
NEXT CHAPTER:
September 28, 1179
With the exceptions of their own children, neither Isidro nor Riona had much claim to being a 'baby person', so it was almost amusing to see Riona making the effort with her newest little nephew. Then again, it stood to reason that she was obliged to at least try. "Huh. One of my siblings finally has the good sense to name a kid after me and the little scamp comes out with the wrong parts."
"What, you think the plan was to actually go with 'Riona'?" Knowing Riona, she probably did. The fact was oddly endearing. "Yes, you won the sibling draw, but we weren't going to use anyone's actual name; that was just for a basis for a derivative. We wouldn't have given a girl your exact name either."
"Then it's a good thing he's not a girl, because I might have been angry about that." She made a clumsy attempt at a baby-sized wave, but her stiff hands turned the minute motions to twitches. Isidro couldn't blame little Rio for shying away. "Already afraid of Auntie Riona, I see. Well, you're smart to be so--isn't that right, girls?"
Alina showed no sign of having heard while Shahira just glanced at her mother and shrugged before returning to their game. Isidro smirked. They were fearless, his girls. When they were old enough to argue, it would be the three of them and Riona shouting every which way while he sought refuge under the table. He just hoped he wouldn't have to emerge at some point to keep them all from killing each other. "They think you're all talk."
"No, but they plan to resist. Girls fight to the end. Boys give too much too soon and they're under your thumb before you know it. Maybe we should have one for an example." She shot him a wink, plus a rather obvious two-handed gesture that prompted a snicker from Raia. Not immune to the giggles herself, Riona turned back to the baby. "How would you like that, Rio? A little cousin to kneel beside you when you bow to Auntie's wrath?"
The baby just gurgled. Another glance back at his younger two, Isidro fell to a slouch. He supposed he didn't not want a son, but from all he'd heard they were an unprecedented responsibility. The best way to raise a daughter was simply to love her, let her be herself, show her that you wouldn't trade her for the world. A stricter hand was needed with boys because whether or not they were actually more capable, men did run the world. Maybe that would change one day. For now, though, a boy had to be taught that possession of a cock wasn't a license to be a self-entitled ass. A boy had to learn that historical favoritism was not a basis for one's value as a human being. And no matter how hard you hammered those lessons in, there would always be outside forces at work trying to pry those nails back out.
That was how men like his father came to be.
Thank God for Raia. "Thought you wanted to space them out a bit more, Ri."
"Eh. I don't need to actively try for one." Riona swayed from side to side, skirts swishing as they brushed across the floor. "Just saying that if it happened, I wouldn't be opposed. Besides, the girls could use a little brother to beat on."
Raia chuckled. Isidro opened his mouth to say--well, he wasn't sure, exactly--but he was spared the agony of a reply by a knock at the front door. "I'll get it."
"You don't have to."
"It's really no problem." He got up and brushed past his wife and her sister, stopping only to tickle the baby's toes. The little mouth released a contented sort of squeal. "Probably more well-wishers for little Rio."
"Oh, probably." Raia sighed as the baby took to swatting at a lock of her hair. "Tell you what: if they're new, they're allowed in."
"Right."
Whoever it was, they were still hammering at the door when Isidro left the bedroom, when he reached the stairs, when he'd stepped off the last of them. Of all the qualities Raia looked for in a friend, patience must not have been one of them. "All right, I'm here. You can stop knocking now."
They didn't. Lip clenched between his teeth, Isidro grabbed the handle and yanked open the door. "You know, anything over four knocks is really pushing--" He had to stop and stare. He knew that blue tunic and grey leather surcoat, but it was a shock to the system seeing it with dark hair. "Umm... aren't those Jadin's clothes?"
"That's Raia's red-haired brother, right?" He nodded. The newcomer's grin only widened as he shrugged. "He won't mind."
Hmm. No doubt Jadin spent more time out of his clothes than in them. Still... "It's kind of rude to steal people's clothing."
"Borrow," the other corrected. "You're the brother-in-law?"
"And you're... the strange naked friend with a minimal command of the language?"
The creature laughed. "Oh, I speak the language with the utmost mastery. Don't go around telling everyone that, though; there are certain things one can't get away with if others are certain of his understanding."
"All right?" Somehow, he doubted he'd received sufficient warning about this man.
"Good. Your compliance is appreciated. Perhaps there's something I can do for you." The stranger gave him a pat on the shoulder. He was too stunned to shrug it off. "I take it that they didn't tell you, but did you know that a couple of your knights ran into my grandfather a while back?"
He took it right. "The homicidal maniac?"
"Yes, him." He confirmed it with the casual, almost bored tone he might have used had Isidro said 'cooper' or 'wheelwright'. "He probably threatened them out of telling anyone, but he won't make do on anything he promised. The ancestors are no longer amused with his antics and told him he'd meet a fiery end if he didn't stop with the killings and the other serious redirections of any mortal lives. You have nothing to fear from him but the odd practical joke."
"Uh... good to know?" He supposed he trusted Raia enough to believe her if she vouched for her friend's character. But if this information was true, wasn't it a little too great a reward for simply keeping someone's lingual capabilities a secret? What could the forest dwellers possibly stand to gain if everyone knew they were now all bark and no bite? "Seriously, why are you telling me this?"
"Why not? Grandfather's not the only one who likes to mess with people's heads." Of course he wasn't. "Anyway, I'm just here to see the baby. Is that all right?"
"It should be. Everyone's upstairs in Raia's room right now. Go right in."
It seemed a simple enough instruction. The stranger, however, had to raise a brow. "Don't you have anything to add? A 'there', maybe? Or 'if you will', or 'unless told otherwise'?"
So much for thinking that this odd, odd conversation was over. "Why would I need to add anything?"
"If that's all you have to say, then someone could use a language lesson." Raia's friend smiled, his eyes glinting with primal amusement. "In this language, it's grammatically incorrect to end a sentence with a preposition."
NEXT CHAPTER:
August 1, 1178
Of all the days Falidor could have gone home early.
He'd known that the duke was in town, and he'd known that the duke had left the castle an hour or so before he himself had, but he'd figured the man would have headed over to Searle and Lettie's to meet the new baby. Had Falidor known the duke planned on visiting Raia instead, he would have stayed longer; he liked his grandfather-in-law, but he could be a bit... much.
Speaking of 'much', Tavrin was also seated at the table. Yes... really picked the wrong day.
"Uh... hello?"
Raia greeted him with a smile. At least he had one good reason for getting home when he had. "I see my father set you free."
"Until tomorrow, yes." He nodded toward the two guests, about to dismiss himself on the grounds of checking up on the children--only when he remembered that they had a play-date with Had and Lyraina's two. Knowing his luck, they'd taken the dog too. "Your grace. Tavrin."
Tavrin's brows nudged upward. "Fal'dor."
"It's Falid--ah, never mind, close enough," he dismissed after a warning glare from Raia. He liked that she didn't sit around pining for him all day, and he loved that their marriage hadn't gotten in the way of her old friendships, but... well, her family had the strangest taste in company. Then again, what did that say about him? "I'll just take a seat and pretend you're wearing pants."
Raia groaned, but the duke chuckled. "Interesting fellow, isn't he? You know, I think we could take a hint from this society. What does it take to see a woman naked, really? Wine? Money? Hours and hours of courtship? Really takes a toll on a man if you add it all up. But if everyone was naked all the time..."
He trailed off, apparently interrupted by the bliss of his own imagination. Falidor sat down and tried to remember what it was like to know normal people. "God, I'm glad the kids aren't here."
The back of Raia's hand smacked into his arm. "Be nice."
"Yes, dear."
The duke flicked his wrist and made some juvenile whipping sound before turning back to Tavrin. "So, tell me more about this tribe of yours. Is everyone even naked in the winter? God, what a sight that must be! All these shapely young women pelting each other with snowballs, their bosoms bouncing as they run away..."
Tavrin shook his head. "We have three grown women. One sister. One grandmother."
"Oh." Falidor couldn't quite pinpoint the duke's expression. He must have been aiming for sympathy, but some part of him had to have been thinking that it wasn't his sister or his grandmother. This was the duke, after all--a man who would no doubt still be siring bastards every which way when Falidor was dead and buried. "Well... that's hard luck there, son."
"It's fine. Not that interesting, really... but Metal Man thought like you."
Heh? Falidor glanced over at Raia, hoping she was a little more well-informed. She wasn't. "Metal Man?"
"Metal Man. Shiny Dovan living in woods."
Spoken like he thought he was helping. At least they weren't talking about nudity anymore. "Uh... you mean there's some sort of... statue thing just walking around?"
Tavrin shrugged. "Kind of clunky walking, but I guess so."
"Like a knight in a suit of armor?" Raia suggested. Probably a long shot--who randomly went about in a suit of armor in August during peace time?--but it wasn't like there was a better explanation.
"Maybe. But his arm fall off once, I saw it. No flesh in there."
The duke frowned. "Can it talk?"
"No, but sometimes he waves. Plays tag with the kids, too--but he can't run fast."
"I'll bet." Raia smirked. "At least he's friendly?"
Her friend nodded. "Oh, yes. Never steps on flowers, always putting baby birds back in nests. Very nice... whatever."
What perplexed Falidor most might have been the fact that the rest of them seemed satisfied, mildly curious at most. Friendly or not, this whole notion seemed a little...
Wait. "Raia, did Lorn and Leara ever find that suit of armor that went missing last spring?"
Raia squinted. "No, but it's not like suits of armor just walk away. It had to have been stolen."
"Not saying it wasn't. Just... that was just a couple weeks before Remiel went on the run, wasn't it?"
The room already housed more characters than Falidor could usually handle, but it figured that the one time he was actually right about something, Florian wasn't around to see it. "You know... I think it was."
NEXT CHAPTER:
June 24, 1178
"There you are!"
Iata's brother turned around as she dashed toward him, stopping just short of his feet. She didn't ordinarily seek him out during the day, nor he her, nor either of their cousins either of them--Tavrin's bizarre fascination with the Dovans aside, they'd outgrown most of their base social needs--but she doubted he'd appreciate being kept out of the loop.
Or would he care? Not like he gave her much response beyond a shrug. "Yes, here I am. What do you want?"
The first question ever out of his mouth when she spoke to him, as always. It was likewise with Atala and Vyro, and probably every Dovan sister and brother for miles around. But the normalcy of it didn't make it any less rude. "You could ask me about my day."
"Fine. How has your day been?"
Iata rolled her eyes. "Never mind that."
"Then why would you have me ask?"
Next time, Atala would bring him the news--whether she liked it or not. "Just a notice for future, less pressing conversations."
Brows arched like inching caterpillars, Tavrin frowned. It wouldn't be the last Iata saw of those brows today, she was sure of it. "Pressing?"
"Well... arguably." Iata took a lock of hair between her fingers and twirled it about. Forget Atala; she should have sent their grandsire. "Just thought you ought to know that the elders are back."
NEXT CHAPTER:
April 30, 1174
A shaking hand grasped at Tavrin's forearm and squeezed--stunned, disbelieving, but beyond ecstasy. "He's waking up!"
Indeed, the Dovan's breathing had steadied and his eyes were beginning to flicker. There had been a brief moment during which Tavrin had thought they'd lost him, but he was fine now. He was going to be all right. "He is."
"Ren." The word was little more than a hoarse whisper, but it was still a word. A name. Her name. "Ren?"
"Searle!" The woman's grip tightened, her nails digging into his arm in spite of the borrowed cloak's scratchy fabric. Not that Tavrin could blame her. She loved this man. He wouldn't have been watching his fingers either had that been Atala on the bed. "You're alive!"
His eyes drooping, the man pushed himself upright. He might as well have just been waking from a nap. "It sure looks that way, doesn't it?"
His wife let ring a controlled giggle. As close to a smile as such a grim-looking human must have ever come, the Dovan slipped off the bed and greeted her with a kiss. "I love you."
Clinging a little more tightly, she rested her chin on his shoulder. From what Tavrin could see, there was a hint of a tear in her eye. "I love you too."
"Promise me something?"
She nodded. He stepped back and looked her in the eyes for a minute, then sighed. "Let's grow old together, all right? Really old. So old that we'll be halfway rotted and no one else will want to look at us by the end. But it'll be all right because we can look at each other. And then we can die in our sleep one night, maybe holding hands under the covers if our fingers haven't fallen off by then." He wove his hand between locks of her hair and began to play with her curls. "Can we do that?"
"Of course." The tear was gone and replaced by a small sparkle. It swelled a little as she stood on her toes and met him with another kiss. "You always said we'd be together forever."
"And we will be--no matter what happens."
The rest of the room might as well have not existed. Tavrin might have been intruding by simply not leaving. He'd played his part already. He didn't have to stick around for their happily ever after. Besides, didn't he have a love of his own? Didn't he have his own happily ever after waiting for him back in Naroni?
"Excuse me?"
Or maybe he still existed in Ren-and-Searle World after all. "You're the one who healed me, aren't you?"
Not sure what else had to be said, Tavrin nodded. From what he'd heard, the man was the type to dismiss others as idiots, but perhaps there were certain things that cast all doubts aside. "Thank you."
Tavrin's lips twitched into a small smile. "Not problem."
"Searle."
It was a voice he'd grown familiar with over the past few days, the voice of that silly Dovan lady with the funny hat and the perma-pucker lips. Tavrin glanced over his shoulder; sure enough, she'd risen from her place on the couch and was now staring at the man, waiting for his acknowledgment of her presence.
Somehow, Tavrin got the feeling that she would be waiting a while.
The man locked eyes with his wife for a moment or so before shooting a glare the way of his younger brother. "Ietrin, did you bring her here?"
The boy buried his face in his hands. The red-haired Dovan on the couch turned his head, slouching somewhat. "Searle, don't be too hard on your brother."
"I shan't be." The hat lady flinched. Tavrin knew why. The older man's advice had said nothing in regards to her.
The seconds ticked by with an agonizing slowness. The boy and the girl and the redhead exchanged their glances. The man's fist clenched and his wife bit her lip. The hat lady just stood there, looking like she might crumble to pieces at the slightest disturbance.
But to Tavrin's relief, the tension was eased by the arrival of two more Dovans from the other room--one of whom was very small. The youngster flashed a goofy grin Tavrin' s way, then bounced up and down in the Dovan King's arms and reached toward his father. "Papa!"
"My baby." The man rushed to his wife's side and held out his arms to receive the child, who greeted him with a hug around the neck and a slobbery kiss on the cheek. "My big, beautiful boy."
The baby laughed. A tad more serious, the man ran his fingers through his son's silky hair and held him back a little, just enough to look him in the eye. "I'll never leave you. You know that, right? I'll never leave you. Not now, not later, not even when I'm dead. I'll never leave you--never."
For some reason, the hat lady bowed her head, frowning. There was something amiss with the Dovan's wife as well, but it was harder to pinpoint; maybe he'd been wrong in assuming she'd just be happy to see her husband alive. "Searle..."
"I just want him to know that." He kissed the baby on the brow, then nodded to the Dovan King. "Thank you for watching him, your majesty. It's a shame that my father and your late wife can't be here with us today, but you yourself are more than all the grandparent my children will ever need."
NEXT CHAPTER:
After a good minute of awkward starting, Ren still didn't know what to make of her mother-in-law's strange guest. His eyes were alarming and the markings on his face were bizarre and she had a sneaking suspicion that he wasn't wearing anything under that cloak. But it didn't matter. If he could help Searle, he could have been a reanimated spider corpse for all she cared.
"You is the wife, then?" His voice was an elemental overload upon her ears. It rang with the warm caress of a summer breeze and refreshing cool of dewy grass on bare feet, and yet there was an edge to it not unlike the foreboding glow of a distant wildfire. But if she looked him over one more time--sized him up, dove into his eyes--she had a hopeful feeling that there was no hostility to be found. He wanted to help. He wouldn't have come if he hadn't.
"Yes." She let her hands fall to her sides, the hard cool of her wedding band tangible even through the silk of her gown. "Can you save him?"
Behind her, Searle's uncle heaved a skeptical sigh. The heavy fabric of Elhina's cloak rustled and Ietrin moaned. Ren was only relieved that her son wasn't here, exposed to this toxic mix of cynical resignation and her own foolish shred of hope. Thank God her father had been willing to play with him in the other room. This was no place for a three-year-old boy--or anyone, for that matter.
Tavrin's ethereal eyes flickered to the bed, where Searle lay in a cold sweat, his mother hovering over him. Laralita had barely acknowledged Ren or Koradril upon her arrival; she'd just marched up to the bedside and cemented herself to the spot. Was it her right to act the doting mother after all these years of neglect? Ren wasn't sure whether to feel touched or enraged. Searle would probably be furious to learn that Ietrin had even considered bringing her here.
But if Tavrin could actually do something... did it even matter? Maybe it would to Searle, maybe in the short term. He was a proud man and he wouldn't break down in his resolute hatred of his mother, not even if she had indirectly saved his life. But he would get over it. This way, he might see Karlspan grow up. They might have a few more children, Lord willing. He might even bounce their grandchildren on his knee. Surely that--even the thought of that--was more important than his undying grudge? "Please... can you help him?"
The visitor turned back to her, his fists clenched and his brows flat. His mouth was motionless for a moment longer, but his lips opened as Searle began to toss beneath the covers. "I try, yes?"
NEXT CHAPTER:
April 12, 1172
Tavrin's gait as he approached was not the spirited stride Atala knew, but it was getting late and dark and cold, so she could ignore his demeanor for now; at least he was safe. "Good to see you back."
He gave her a smile, but it didn't swell past his lips. His eyes were steely and alert, their gaze sweeping across the walled compound before at last settling on her own. "Is the baby here?"
Atala shook her head. "She's with your sister. Why? What did he say?"
It had been over a year now since their elders had left--their grandparents, both their fathers. They had managed so far, just as they always had, keeping out of sight for the most part, letting the Dovans go about their business as they went about their own. Creatures such as herself and Tavrin were a different breed from their forebears, and it had always felt lonely; they were not quite human, and yet hardly anything more, and so they had been left behind. It was only now that they had even been contacted, and not even with a proper visit--only a call from an old relic, heralded by a dream.
"He says they are well."
Well--that did not sound quite right. They had been "well" when one of the elders had returned from a hunting trip. They had been "well" when their grandfather had discovered another way to the realm of the ancestors. Where they were now, from what she'd been led to believe, the elders should have been far more than simply "well". "That's... surprising."
"So I thought." He crossed his arms against his chest and frowned. She supposed Tavrin was the patriarch now--if nothing else, he was the eldest--but she did not think he liked being the leader. He was a free spirit. He lived and let live, or at least would have preferred it to be so; unfortunately for all of them, the rest of them needed someone to make the decisions for them, as their grandfather had always been so willing to do. "All they ever wanted was to join the ancestors. The way their eyes always lit up when the thought was voiced, I would have expected ecstasy."
"Likewise." He looked almost sorrowful. The elders had not always been fair, but Atala and her generation had never wished them ill--they'd raised them, after all. Tavrin, like all of them, had hoped they would find what they were looking for. It was a blow to think they hadn't. "How did he sound?"
"Honestly?" She nodded. His eyes flickered to the forest floor as he sighed. "Disappointed."
Atala felt a twinge in her spine. Nothing pleasant ever happened when their grandfather was disappointed. "You think he'll find a way to adjust?"
"I can only hope," he muttered, the light of the setting sun streaking against his hair as he turned his head, "but really? It seems more likely that he'll come back here. Maybe not for a while--maybe not until we're all dead and gone--but at some point."
Frowning, Atala closed her eyes and stepped forward. When the elders had left, she and hers had ceased to be a part of "them"--at least, the "them" the elders saw. Now that they were something separate... were they fair game? The elders would not protect them from the elders. They were the elders now. "Because he is disappointed?"
"No." Tavrin's arms dropped to his sides, resigned, but not quite defeated. "Because he is bored."
NEXT CHAPTER:
