B00CH3ARG0 EBOK (28 page)

“High one,” he murmured, sitting in a low chair near her. “I
congratulate you. Your daughter is beautiful.”

“Your son is pretty handsome himself, from what I’ve seen of
Cena’s fetal scans.”

He smiled and shook his head. “He is not my son. He is
Cena’s heir.”

“Yes, well. We’ll just have to disagree about that.”

“You retain some human notions.”

“Of course I do.” She beamed a smug grin. “Be there when he
is born. You will find it worth the experience.”

He shook his head again. “You would better serve your friend
if you discouraged her from me.”

“I will never do that. No.”

“High one, she only becomes more entwined.”

“Isn’t that a
good
thing?”

“I will go into the dark before many more years pass, and
she will be more grieved than is necessary.”

“Then don’t die!” she exclaimed. “
Everyone
wants you
to live except you.”

Rose squeaked a protest at the vehemence. Marianne took a
deep breath and forced herself to calm down.

“I have lived too long already,” Storaas said, after a
moment. “There is no longer anything worth living for that I have not already
done.”

“You’ve never bonded.”

He fell silent.

“Proctor, take the Jorann’s blessing, and bond with Cena,
and be with her when her son is born. I guarantee, you’ll find it worth living
for.”

“We neither of us have heirs,” he said. “We are ineligible
to bond.”

“Then ask the Sural’s permission. I doubt he’d deny you
anything that kept you with us.”

He set his jaw. “I cannot do that to her. My death would
tear her in half.”

“So
you
are entwined with
her
.”

Storaas stared.

She gave him a smug grin. “
Gotcha
,” she said in
English.

He snorted. “I must think.”

“You do that.” She tried to give him another smug grin, but found
herself caught by a huge yawn. She grinned again, but this time she felt
sheepish. “I think I should take a nap.”

“Of course, high one,” he said, rising from his chair. “I
understand you had a strenuous morning.”

“Good luck, Proctor,” she called as she headed for her
sleeping mat with the somnolent Rose.

* * *

Rose woke Marianne, fussing and hungry. A nurse whisked her
away as the Sural slipped under the blanket and nestled against Marianne’s
back.

“Beloved,” she said sleepily. The nurse returned Rose, clean
and dry and making unhappy sounds, her tiny mouth trying to latch on to
anything that touched it. She guided Rose and winced at the first strong pulls.

The Sural rumbled a soft chuckle. “She has my appetite,” he said.

Marianne swiveled her head to eye him over her shoulder. “How
do you know it’s not
my
appetite, hmm?” she asked in an arch tone.

His expression was smug. “Cena also inherited something of
me, or so Storaas says.”

“He would know.” They were silent, Marianne half-asleep as Rose
nursed. When the sucking slowed, she sat up to burp her. “Doesn’t it embarrass
you to speak of your own daughter’s ... appetites ... that way?”

“Should it?” he asked. “She is not my daughter, she is her
mother’s heir. Thela is more a daughter to me than my head apothecary is,
though I fathered the one and not the other.”

Rose uttered a soft bubble. Marianne lay back down facing
the Sural and offered the other side. She drowsed as Rose suckled.

“Beloved—” she began.

“Yes?” He stroked Rose’s head with the backs of his fingers.

“Would you grant Storaas and Cena permission for an early
bonding if they requested it?”

His eyes shot to hers. “Why do you ask?” He lifted himself to
one elbow.

“I shook him, I think. Cornered him into realizing he’s
entwined with her. I told him I didn’t think you’d deny him permission to bond with
Cena, or anything else that kept him with us.”

The Sural gave her a brilliant smile and a gentle kiss on
the forehead. “I doubt he would ask – he is much too traditional – but I would
gladly grant them permission if he did.”

She smiled and sat up to bubble Rose again. “You really love
him, don’t you?”

“He made me what I am and asked nothing in return. I would
give him anything he asked if it were in my power, but he asks only for work.”

“What happened to make lose him interest in life?” she
asked, and lay down again facing him, Rose quiet and alert between them.

“He will know if I tell you.”

“How could he?”

“You would change toward him.”

Marianne pursed her lips. “It wouldn’t change anything. You
know how much I care about him.”

The Sural studied her for a moment. “He was entwined with
the Suralia my grandmother.”

Her jaw dropped. “He’s not—”

“No, he is not what you would call my grandfather. But the
Suralia did offer to mother his heir.”

“Were they bonded?”

He shook his head. “They had planned to bond when Storaas
declared his heir.”

Marianne hardly dared to ask. “What … happened?”

“Grandmother traveled away from the stronghold when she was
heavy with child, the day Parania invaded. Storaas and I were with her, and the
Paran sent most of his guard after us in an attempt to assassinate me. The
attack triggered me, but I was unable to protect her. She walked into the dark,
taking the child with her.”

“
Oh my God
,” she said softly, in English.

“She kept her honor, but it broke Storaas. His interest in
life followed her into the dark.”

“And he has no heir.”

“No. He never again made the request of any woman. Truthfully,
he did not request it of my grandmother. She offered out of love. He has since
refused every request made of him to father an heir, until Cena asked.” He grinned.
“You captured his choice in the matter.”

“Me?” she asked, blinking. “What did I do?”

“You asked before witnesses if he would honor her request.
He was forced to choose between granting her request or humiliating her, and he
cares too much for her to do the latter.”

Marianne buried her face in one hand. If he’d said no...
“Cena could have been hurt, and it would have been my fault.”

“No, beloved. He would not have humiliated her. It was well
done of you, even if unknowingly.”

Marianne frowned. “If he can refuse all requests, why can’t
you?”

He raised an eyebrow. “I am the Sural.”

She snorted.

He ignored the snort and continued, “I believe Cena reminds
him of his lost Suralia. There is no physical resemblance, but she has
something of my grandmother’s spirit.” He rolled onto his back and gazed up at
the ceiling. “I was very glad to see him take an interest in her. I had hoped
it would light a spark of life in him. Perhaps it has.”

They were quiet for a time. Rose drifted into sleep.

“Look what we made,” Marianne said in a soft voice, a sudden
surge of delight bringing a huge smile to her face.

He stroked her cheek. “There is the smile that captured me.”

The next morning, Marianne did her best to be unreadable
when Cena came to her quarters to examine her. The apothecary was pensive and
distracted as she studied her readouts.

“I wouldn’t worry about him too much,” Marianne said.

Cena glanced up and smiled. “Your ability to read others is
improving.”

Marianne shrugged. “It’s not hard to know what’s on your
mind right now.” She sensed a stab of grief run through the apothecary,
suppressed almost before she could notice it. “Cena ...”

Cena gave a rueful smile and changed the subject. “How is
Rose eating?”

“Like a
shark
.” At Cena’s puzzled expression, she
explained, “An ocean predator. Dangerous to humans.”

Cena laughed and pulled a small jar from her pocket. “Use
this salve if you become sore.”

“I’m already sore. Now I know why so many women feed their
babies from bottles.”

“I do not understand.”

Marianne pressed her lips together and blinked several times.
“I’m not sure how to explain it, beyond saying that many human women give their
babies ... well, it’s synthetic milk.”

Cena’s eyebrows flew up. “And this is common?”

“Fairly common, yes.”

“Astonishing.”

“Cena—”

“He told me of your conversation.”

Marianne blew a sigh out the side of her mouth. “I don’t
mean to pry.”

Cena pocketed her tablet and her scanner and gazed out the
windows of Marianne’s sitting room. “He tells me I deserve more than the broken
heart of a broken old man. I cannot convince him his heart is a gift beyond
compare. But perhaps you made him realize he cares for me more than he knew.
For that, you have my gratitude.”

* * *

Laura sat in the delicious late afternoon cold, leaning on
the base of a cora tree in the gardens, as far from any of the guards as she
could manage. She sighed in the soothing solitude. No one was looking for her.
Yet.

Everyone in the stronghold glowed.

Glow wasn’t the right word, but she didn’t have any other to
fit the way people just ... glowed. Especially the Sural, who was brighter than
anyone, except for little Rose. She was different. Uncomplicated. Elemental.
Delightful. And very, very bright.

Ties and connections and other things she had no names for
flowed between and among the Tolari in the stronghold. Below, in the distance,
she could sense the city and its hundreds of thousands. It was overwhelming
just to feel it from a distance. The idea of passing
through
it, which might
be unavoidable when she returned to Parania, made her shudder.

If this was what it was like for the Jorann, she could
understand why the ancient woman lived alone in a cave. She wouldn’t mind a
little of that herself right now. If it weren’t for the Paran, she’d be tempted
to march down there and ask the Jorann if she wouldn’t mind a roommate.

If it weren’t for the Paran. She smiled. He would be so
happy to see her like this. It meant they could be together ... as long as they
wanted. She was young again. She could even have children again. Well, one
child, anyway. A Tolari heir.

It was worth some thought. She’d always wondered what it
would be like to be young and yet have the wisdom she’d acquired in her sixty
years. Or was she sixty-one now? She had no idea what the date was in human
space. At any rate, she had the opportunity to find out if she could do a
better job of raising a child, now that she had both the energy of youth and
the perspective of experience.

She kicked off her slippers and wriggled her toes in the
ferny stuff that Marianne called grass. How long would she keep her toes before
they grew together and her feet became peds? She wiggled them again, enjoying
the sensation and wondering what it would feel like when her feet ended in a
flap instead of toes.

Someone was coming, leaving the stronghold keep from the
family wing. Marianne. Her lively glow was distinctive.

Somehow, she knew that Marianne could neither see nor sense
her yet.

“I’m over here,” she called.

* * *

Marianne led Laura through the garden door of the refectory.
“Look what I found,” she said. “Can I keep her?”

“I don’t eat much,” Laura added.

The Sural lifted his eyebrows and stopped chewing. He swallowed
before speaking. “Laura eats a great deal,” he said. “Almost as much as I do.”

Marianne burst out laughing. Laura joined in as she caught
sight of the Sural’s now-puzzled face.

“A human expression,” Kyza told Thela, her voice weighted
with all the authority of childhood. “Human children use it when they wish to
keep an animal in their home.”

Thela made a disgusted sound. Kyza giggled.

Marianne checked on Rose, sleeping soundly in her nurse’s
arms, before sitting down to her meal. “We were joking with you, beloved,” she
said.

“Ah.”

Laura stifled a snicker and opened her mouth to reply, just
as her attention was caught by Storaas strolling in with Cena on his arm. “It
still seems strange to me,” she said in a low voice. “Storaas looks so very
much older than Cena. She’s like a child compared to him, yet she’s older than
I am.”

“Everyone in the stronghold is like a child compared to him,”
Marianne said.

“How old is he?”

Marianne shrugged. “It’s not polite to ask. Past a certain
age, an adult is an adult.”

Laura’s eyes glinted with mischief. “What about you?”

“I’d be of age. Thirteen is considered adult for most
purposes, and I’m eighteen and change. I’ll be nineteen next spring. Rulers
have to be twenty-five to take power.”

“How old is your Sural?” Laura whispered.

“One hundred forty-three,” he said.

“You were eavesdropping!”

“I was listening,” he replied in a mild voice. “I can hardly
eavesdrop on a conversation taking place in front of me.”

Marianne frowned. “I thought you were a hundred forty-two.”

“I was born in the autumn, beloved. It is now autumn.”

Laura squeezed her eyes shut, apparently trying to do the
math. “On Earth, that’s ... that’s ...”

“Two hundred ninety years,” he said.

Laura sagged. “And I thought that 167-year-old woman in
Japan was old,” she said. “Don’t you get tired of it?” She stopped and stared
at him. “No, you don’t, do you. You love watching your people, your culture. You
want to see what they’re going to come up with next.”

“Even so,” he said, digging into his food.

She eyed the rolls and fruit he’d piled on the table in
front of him. “I wonder why your people never thought up the idea of using
plates,” she mused.

Marianne laughed. “That seemed strange to me at first too,”
she said.

“It is only more work for the servants,” he said. “They must
still clean the table.”