Imryne, of House Melrae: Wherein Seas and Stars Are Shaken

[aithne]

(Stone Sky Dramatis Personae)



Imryne, of House Melrae
Book Three: Stone Sky

Chapter Five: Wherein Seas and Stars Are Shaken




Outside of all the worlds and ages,
There where the fool is as the sage is,
     There where the slayer is clean of blood,
No end, no passage, no beginning,
There where the sinner leaves off sinning,
     There where the good man is not good.

There is not one thing with another,
But Evil saith to Good: My brother,
     My brother, I am one with thee:
They shall not strive nor cry for ever:
No man shall choose between them: never
     Shall this thing end and that thing be.

Wind wherein seas and stars are shaken
Shall shake them, and they shall not waken;
     None that has lain down shall arise;
The stones are sealed across their places;
One shadow is shed on all their faces,
     One blindness cast on all their eyes.

--Swinburne, Ilicet




(Imryne, in House Melrae)

She went from dream to waking abruptly, hurtled back into her body with a feeling like all of her hair was standing on end. Behind her, she could feel Jevan's body go from the relaxation of sleep to alert tension. No dream, then.

Sendings from Ryld were so rare these days that Imryne had almost forgotten the strange feeling they left behind, like a ghost of the child her son had been the last time she had laid eyes on him. "Oh dear goddess," she murmured.

Jevan shifted, raised his head, kissed the tip of her ear. "Greyanna wanting an alliance. I would help Vandree destroy that house if I could, but Ryld would be the first to die."

"And as long as Ryld is still in that house, they're safe from us. Greyanna has to know that." Beside her, Tar muttered and rolled over.

"This changes things," he said. "We end House Vandree, and then we can end Xalyth."

"House Vandree is slowly killing this city." She pulled her knees up, pressing herself into Jevan's reassuring warmth. "If we have a chance to at least break their hold...it might be worth allying with Xalyth. As disgusting as that thought is. I can't believe I'm even considering this, with everything Greyanna has done to this household and those in it over the years."

"Disgusting is the word for it," he said. "She has killed family members, framed us for things, turned your sister, so many things. I want her dead too, but Vandree is the greater problem currently." He slid out of bed, and held out a hand to her. "Flight?"

She reached out, slid her warm fingers into his palm. "Yes. I won't be able to sleep any more."

Jevan pulled her out of bed. "Me, either." Imryne pulled on an old coat, and Jevan put on his much-mended coat, into which he tucked one of his swords. Imryne got her staff and let her husband wrap her up in his arms. He carried them out the window, and Imryne cast an illusion that they were nothing but a pair of bats flying, squeaking, towards the roof of the city.

Jevan flew them in a large circle, swinging wide around the outer rim of the cavern, through the smoke-hazed air. The turbines weren't working again, Imryne could tell from how stagnant the air was, filled with a rich odor of waste, sweat, and things less savory. Beneath them, the driders walked the streets, ceaselessly moving. They did not look up. They never looked up. Now, more than any time before, there was nothing to look up at.

They settled on the ledge overlooking the city, the little place that they came to when they wanted to be by themselves. Imryne crouched on the edge, her coat open, the air warm on her bare breasts. "This place used to be so beautiful. Even as a Lloth city, even when the high houses were fighting among themselves. Look at it now."

He settled beside her, glancing first at her and then out over the city. Below them, the city spread out, twisting and dropping at angles. Imryne had always loved looking at the tangle of streets, but now there was no denying the decay that was everywhere. Edges that had once been smooth were now ragged. Walls that had once been whole and solid were crumbling, pitted with time and neglect. The poor areas were the worst, where ineffectual repairs had been attempted with materials pulled from the smoking remnants of great houses. Everything was stained to black, and luminescent fungus--once limited to the gallery of the dead--formed a thin, slimy layer over any surface that was not walked on or touched regularly.

"It looks now like the human settlements I have seen that are in decay," Jevan said, finally. "Nothing but the worst of society comes here anymore. The markets are filled with mercenaries. The vendors are afraid to sell; they have to pay money to Vandree to protect them from the mercenaries. It's a city feeding on itself and sooner or later it's going to die."

Her heart felt squeezed, compressed with grief for all she loved that had died, was dying. Her mother, Tar's unborn child. Sorn. Ilfryn. Fanaedar. She had pulled complacency over herself, believing Triel when she had said that waiting was the best course of action. No more, Mother. I am matron mother now, and I say no more. "We will all die with it, unless we leave first. I've been trying to keep my eyes closed and hoping it gets better. It's not working, and I don't think I can sit by and watch, any more."

Jevan was sitting cross-legged on the stone, the fingers of his left hand spread wide and planted firmly on the rock. As he spoke, his gaze idly flicked over the city, keeping up his ceaseless vigil for danger. "Vandree has to go, and then Xalyth. All the houses of Lloth need to be destroyed or made to leave."

"Yes." She took a long, slow breath, feeling the familiar burn in the back of her throat, the old injuries that the polluted air made worse. "We may end up destroying the city instead, if we're not careful. It might be better than this slow suffocation."

"Better a quick death than slow torture."

She thought of Sorn again. Triel's death had brought all of the grief associated with that particular episode--Sorn and Ilfryn dying, losing their chance to get Ryld back, the discovery that Xalyth was torturing Maya--bubbling back to the surface. After these cycles, Imryne had thought that she had dealt with the pain. But it was still there, just lurking. "Yes. Allying with Greyanna, though." She shuddered, despite herself. "When I think of what she's done to us, what she did to Talabrina, how she took Ryld and turned Rauva and gave Zyn that scar..."

Jevan reached over, put a hand on her bare knee. "All things she needs to be paid back for. But this looks like the best option to get Ryld back."

"Yes. We might be able to get her to hand him over to us, finally. We need to be ready, though. I should take Zyn and Talabrina to the surface today, just in case."

He wrinkled his nose a bit. "It is just about morning." Then his expression changed, becoming more serious. "How are you feeling?"

She closed her eyes, and weighed her heart. After a moment, she said, "Tired. Sad. I miss Mother. I would have thought that her dying might send me into an episode, but I don't think it's going to. I'm very worried about Tar." She scooted over, putting an arm around him. "And you, Jevan?"

"Tired. Sad for you, afraid for Tar, grieving for the child. Triel and I got along, but it's a bit different. You were the daughter, I was the son in law. I grieve for her, but I feel your pain more acutely."

"Strange how that works, these days." She leaned into him. This was something else they did not speak of often, and never within House Melrae proper. There were times when Imryne felt as if her sense of self was extended into Jevan, as if his hands were an extension of hers, as if he could step into her body and see from behind her eyes. Separation was becoming more and more intolerable. What had started out as fretting and worry when he was gone had escalated into very real headaches for both of them when he was away from her from more than an hour.

He always came to her first with news and with whatever he was feeling. He loved Tar and Urlryn both to distraction, but he very rarely made love to either of them alone. It was obvious to all that Imryne was first in Jevan's heart. Imryne had spent some time worrying about that, but in the cycles since Urlryn had joined them Tar's relationship with Urlryn had become rooted deeply in both of their souls. Neither of them seemed to mind the depth of Jevan and Imryne's relationship, and Urlryn was far more inclined towards females than males to begin with. Imryne had seen marriages self-destruct when two of the partners became much more enamored of each other than they were of the other husbands and wives, but that didn't seem to be happening here.

Jevan was what he was, an elf raised to believe that marriage should be limited to two people. He had adapted admirably well, all things considered.

He leaned over and pressed his lips to her cheek. "For all the things we have been through, I would never have traded it for a life without you."

"Me, neither. Despite everything. I'm so glad we managed to find each other again." She turned her head, capturing his lips. "Up for some distraction?" she asked after she broke the kiss.

His response was a grin. "With you, any time."

They came up here once and sometimes twice a strand, to talk and be with each other without the demands of House and children pressing on them. Over the cycles, they had brought things here: blankets, pillows, jars of water. It was not enough to disguise the reality of this place, a bare ledge formed from a fold in the stone at the top of the great cavern of Fanaedar. It was enough for marginal comfort, and it was into the pile of blankets and pillows that they pulled each other now.

Their coats and weapons shed, they lay for a few minutes intertwined, breast against breast and hip against hip. They were both aroused, but for the moment content to lie pressed together. "Beautiful..." Jevan murmured, breathing into her hair.

She lifted her head, looked into his blue eyes, blue as the daylight sky of the surface she would never be able to look at directly. "You are." He laughed then, and rolled so that she was pinned beneath him. His weight was comforting and not a little exciting, and she arched her back to press her breasts tighter into his chest.

"Vixen."

"You keep calling me that," she said, grinning. Then she started kissing him, starting at his lips and making her way down to the parts of his neck she could reach. He moaned, exactly the response she was looking for, and in that moment rolled. She ended up on top of him, hands planted on his chest, her legs around his thighs and a certain place that was dampening quite rapidly nestled against a very sensitive part of his body. This time, his groan was more guttural, especially when she curled her hips, bringing more of her in contact with him.

Then he gasped as she pulled away, raising his head to watch her as she moved fluidly down his body. One of his hands reached for her and she playfully slapped it away. "Let me," she said, and though her voice was light there was an abrupt wave of grief rising, threatening to drown her.

Let me--

She lowered her mouth and breathed in the musky scent of him, sweat and maleness and a faint whiff of the soap he used. The things in her head were howling and rattling at their locks, and she flicked her tongue out, tasting him. The half-gasp he made at the touch of her tongue quieted the howling. She began to explore, re-finding all of the places he was most sensitive, until he was writhing and the hunger in her had drowned out the grief.

Only then did her mouth descend on him fully, allowing and encouraging release.

By the time he had finished shuddering, she was curled up against him, one arm over his chest and her head on his shoulder. He shifted so he could put an arm around her, and for the space of a few breaths they lay silent together. Then one of his hands began to explore, sliding over her shoulder and down to her breast, where her nipple was crinkled in anticipation of his fingers.

She rolled her shoulder back, opening her posture, inviting further exploration. Soon enough, his hand drifted over her belly and explored the soft skin around her navel, drifted over her hipbone, found the sensitive line where the hair began to grow. By the time he had slid his fingers through the slippery folds between her legs, she was breathing deeply, all of her attention directed towards the feeling of his hand on and then in her.

Jevan knew her, ah, how well he knew her. He knew that what she needed right now was the need, the hunger, the sensation of her body overwhelming her mind. He didn't move quickly, even when her breath became to come in short pants. Instead, he stayed slow, taking her deeper into a state of unthinking need.

With just a bit of focus, a little more speed from him, she could have gone over the edge into orgasm. Instead he kept her there, writhing, until he finally took pity on her and gave her what she craved, shudders crashing over her in a soundless wave. When the first wave had passed, she shifted so she could throw a leg over him, positioning herself with her hips above his. He was hard again, and she took advantage of it, sliding down on him until they were fully joined.

They stayed still for a few moments, until one or the other of them could not stand it anymore, and they began to move together. Slowly, so slowly, they were gentle with one another, bruised hearts requiring this balm. The rhythm between them accelerated, Imryne feeling a flush spreading over her skin.

They slowed and quickened, slowed and quickened, and Imryne's heart was pounding. There was something pressing down on her, something other than need and pleasure. Her orgasm was building, and instinctively she resisted, slowing her movements, afraid of the shadow behind the need. She tucked her face down, shutting her eyes tightly, and Jevan paused to bring a hand up to capture her chin. "Don't hide, love," he breathed. "Stay with me--"

She looked down into his eyes, and gave in.

Her orgasm came hard this time, wracking her body with uncontrollable shudders, and hard on its heels was the shadow, the pain, and she pressed her face into Jevan's shoulder and screamed full-throated, muffling her voice with his body. He caught her in his arms and held her as she fought, sobbed, pounded her free fist against his chest.

Fortunately, the fit was short-lived, and soon enough calm returned her to herself, still crying but far more in control than she had been. The tears passed as well, and she lay silent except for her breathing, her whole body pressed against Jevan's. "I wondered if that was going to happen," he said quietly. "I love you, Imryne. I will always love you."

Imryne's muscles were unlocking one by one. "I love you," she told him. "Did I hurt you?"

"You've done worse." There was a chuckle lurking in his voice, and she raised her head to see that there was a distinct bruise where she had been hitting him. "You're stronger than you were."

But am I strong enough? She knew what his answer would be--whether he was right or wrong--and did not ask. "No blood this time, at least. We should go back."

"Probably. And there's Greyanna to ponder as well." Jevan lifted her up a bit so he could slide out from underneath her, and they both sat up. "Shall we?"

They donned coats and weapons, and Jevan flew them back down to the house. When they arrived, Tar and Urlryn were awake but still in bed, lying loosely cuddled with each other. "We were just wondered where you'd gone," Urlryn said, sitting up. "Snuck off together...oh. She raised her head, half-closing her eyes, and then smiled. "That's what you were up to!"

And with that, she launched herself out of bed at the two of them. Jevan caught her, and Imryne wrapped her arms around the two of them. Urlryn wriggled around, sliding down a bit, and fastened her mouth on Imryne's nipple. From Jevan's surprised gasp, Urlryn had wrapped her free hand around an intimate portion of his anatomy. "I was waiting," Urlryn mumbled. "It's been days."

Imryne pulled the three of them into bed, toppling the group of them. Jevan was laughing, Urlryn was giggling, and the three of them were scrambling to their knees. Imryne rolled away from the other two, intending to pull up her hair, and then paused.

Tar was sitting on the end of the bed, looking at them with an unreadable expression. Imryne's body stilled, her breath frozen in her lungs. That look--

She knew it too well. She knew what that look felt like on the inside. She shook off the cold that had gripped her and crossed the space between her and Tar, her hands held cupped before her. "Love," she said, and her breath stopped when Tar turned her head and let her garnet eyes meet Imryne's. "Love--"

The word was a prayer, a supplication, her hands spread wide. She could go no further. She could not touch her wife; the aura of loss that surrounded her was so thick that any movement of hand on skin in that moment would have been an intrusion.

She waited, and Jevan and Urlryn were silent behind her.

Then Tar's eyes closed, and her entire body bent forward. Slowly, gently--

She laid her head in Imryne's hands.

Surrender.

Imryne felt tears welling in her eyes. She supported Tar's head with one hand, the other stroking her close-stubbled scalp. Her fingers swept across her head, down the back of her neck, finding the faint knobs of her spine. We must all surrender, in the end. Oh, my love, my love.

She shifted, bringing her hand under Tar's chin, lifting it. Tar's eyes were closed and her face was wet. "I have you," Imryne murmured. "I won't let you fall."

Tar's eyes opened, shining brighter than jewels. "I know," she said. "Matron Mother Imryne."

For the first time, those words were a blessing, a benediction, a statement of faith instead of a curse. She bent forward to kiss Tar on the forehead. "We will heal," she said. "We will remember those we have lost, and we will do what we can to save those still alive. I love you, Tar. You are my lover, my wife, the mother of our children, the best Ellistraee priestess in this city." She set her forehead against Tar's. "And we will kill all those who stand against us."

Tar raised her head. "Good," she said quietly. Then she raised herself to her knees and kissed Imryne almost hard enough to draw blood, her teeth biting into Imryne's lip, a ferocious hunger coming over her. Imryne pulled her back between Urlryn and Jevan, and all three of them descended on her.

They spent a pair of hours drowning their sorrows, celebrating the lives that they still had. Urlryn was more demanding of Jevan's attentions than usual. Imryne concentrated on Tar for a while, then found herself in the center of a circle of hands. They changed configurations, flowing from one to another with the ease of cycles of practice. The timepiece was going from blue to indigo when they stopped for the moment, sated, lying in a sweaty tangle on the bed. "I had a dream," Imryne said, remembering that she hadn't told her wives what Ryld had sent. "It went like this--"

After Imryne had told the story, Tar asked, "So what are you going to do if she comes by?"

Imryne sighed softly. "See her, I think. See what she wants and what she's willing to give in return. If we can break Vandree's stranglehold and get Ryld back, it might be worth it."

"Worth the try." Tar lifted her head and kissed Imryne's knee, the only bit of her she could comfortably reach. "Urlryn, could you nibble on her ear for me?"

Urlryn giggled and leaned over from where she lay to run her tongue along the outer ridge of Imryne's ear. That would have sparked yet another bout, if there hadn't been a knock on the door just then.

Maya's voice sounded, muffled by the door. "Mothers, Father, are you up?"

Imryne wriggled out from under Urlryn. "Yes, come in." She didn't bother to put on a robe.

The door opened, and Maya stuck her head in. Her hair showed signs of having been hastily brushed, and she was wearing an old dress of Tar's that she loved mostly because it had been Tar's favorite for years. "You may want to get up for this. Greyanna is outside the gate without a guard, wanting in."

"Good goddess. Yes, we need to get up for this one." Imryne got to her feet. "Tell the guards to let her in, but have one of the mages check her for magic, and she doesn't go beyond first reception room in the outer house. And watch for invisible people with her."

"Hang on, Maya," Jevan said. "The invisible thing is my department." He dislodged Tar and got out of bed, reaching for yesterday's pants and shirt, fastening the dark purple throat-band around his neck. Just before he headed out the door, he glanced over at Imryne. "Can I kill her?" He smiled.

She returned the expression, amused. "If you kill her, we'll never get Ryld back. So, no."

"Damn." He left with Maya in tow, and Imryne was washing quickly and pulling on a plain dress. She put on no jewelry other than the house signet that reflected her status and her house symbol, wore no ornaments in her hair. Her dress was smoke-gray, mottled in a mourning pattern.

She joined Jevan in the reception room, where he stood scowling at Greyanna. Greyanna herself was wearing a plain dress in a darker color than Imryne's, for once without the high, stiff collars that overwhelmed her sharp face. She had her hands clasped, moving her fingers restlessly against each other. There were lines of strain at the corners of her eyes, and her weapons, what there were of them, were laid on the table at the center of the room. Imryne remembered that officially, she did not know that Xalyth Jhalass was dead, and so greeted Greyanna with an incline of her head and, "Xalyth Greyanna."

Greyanna's whole body bowed forward, just slightly. "Matron Mother Imryne, of Melrae. Thank you for seeing me. I hope I didn't intrude on anything."

The breath snagged in Imryne's throat. Those words, and that tone, were the kindest she had ever heard out of Greyanna. She felt a little dizzy, as if the world had tilted slightly. "No, you're not intruding. I have to admit that I'm surprised to see you here, especially without guards."

"Things change," Greyanna said, and spread her hands with their long, thin fingers. "You will be the first to know that Jhalass is dead, making me matron mother. I am sure you may not believe me, but she died as near as we can tell of old age."

Imryne raised her eyebrows. "Really. Congratulations, Matron Mother Greyanna. But now I'm even more surprised that you are here without escort."

Greyanna pressed her thin lips together. "I have a problem, and really this may be a we have a problem. Imrae respected my mother a great deal, allowing her to remain first house even though we both know that is not the case anymore." She looked down, and Imryne felt a bit of pity for her, impressed by Greyanna's acting skills if nothing else. "With my ascension to the leadership of Xalyth, she will no longer respect that boundary. Together, with your allies and mine, we can take Vandree down. This city is not what it once was. It's crumbling under Vandree leadership." She raised her gaze and studied Imryne briefly, her eyes going to where Jevan stood silent at her shoulder. "I am proposing an alliance until Vandree is gone. After that, everything is in play again."

"So it would be temporary, with the house orders remaining what they are, absent Vandree."

"You would all move one up," she said, nodding. "And we can start the game again, but rebuild the city. We can extend as long as we both agree to restore some infrastructure. Return Fanaedar to at least a semblance of itself again."

She turned this over in her mind, trying to decide what Greyanna's angle was, why she felt comfortable asking for Melrae's help. "And the drider? What do you plan to do with them?"

Greyanna shrugged sharply. "The drider are controlled by the crystal. The crystal or the drider get destroyed. I prefer the drider. If the crystal goes, they are free-willed--and you know what they will do."

"We won't have a chance to rebuild the city, because they'll pull it apart around us."

"Without the drider the crystal is useless. I will give it to you, if you are concerned that I will try to make more drider."

Imryne favored Greyanna with a long look. The cycles had not been kind to her, and Imryne thought she glimpsed a bit of the feeling that had been dogging her ever since her own mother had died, a sick, stunned realization that she was being called to do something that she never thought herself capable of. Xalyth Jhalass had been a great matron mother. Greyanna was starting off badly if she wanted to be her equal. "That would be preferable," she said.

"Done," Greyanna said immediately.

"There is one other thing I want as a condition of our alliance."

"Name it."

Imryne tried not to smile, even a little bit. "I want my son back."

Greyanna had been expecting this, and there was fury in neither her eyes nor her voice. "I will not deny that I have him. If I have your word, and the word of your husband back there that until Vandree dies his blades won't be in my back--I will deliver him within the hour."

She let Greyanna dangle for a few breaths, waiting. She could have Greyanna killed here and now, she had only to speak the word to Jevan. She would disappear; if her body vanished, none would challenge Imryne. As terrible as it might be to think it, you and I need each other right now, Greyanna. After she let silence twist her knife for her, she nodded. "Until Vandree dies, I will consider you an ally and behave accordingly." She glanced over her shoulder. "Jevan?"

Jevan stepped beside her, and Greyanna's eyes widened. Whether it was at the breach in protocol--a matron mother would normally only have a favorite wife stand next to her during a negotiation, never a husband or even a weaponsmaster--or because Jevan made her blood run cold, Imryne could not say. Imryne heard the chill in Jevan's voice. "I follow your lead, my love. I agree not to kill you, Xalyth Greyanna, until such a time as the alliance is declared over by Imryne."

"Then we both agree," Imryne said.

"We do." Greyanna's thin fingers were interlaced, utterly still. "I will be on my way. I can't get away for long. But I will contact you again within the week, with information that may help us decide a target. If you can do the same, we can make a plan to strike at whatever seems best."

"Good. I'll gather information and wait for you to contact us."

"In one hour, I will magically transport your son to outside your front gate. Be ready to receive him and take him inside quickly."

"We will." Imryne paused for just a bare moment. "Thank you, Greyanna."

Was that just the barest tremble in Greyanna's lips? "Thank you for looking past our differences to a common cause," she said. "And to you, Jevan." She nodded to both of them and then crossed the room, pausing at the table to collect her knives.

"Take her to the gates," Imryne called to the guard on the door. Greyanna stepped between them and was gone, the sound of feet retreating very loud in the stone corridor. Only then did Imryne crack a smile. "She is terrified of you," she said to Jevan.

He did not smile. "Good reason to be," he observed dryly. "Which means that after this alliance, she has some trick up her sleeve to eliminate me."

"Yes. We're going to have to watch out for that. My guess is that she's been working on some way to either neutralize or eliminate you. But if we get Urlryn with her abilities looking, and Tar doing her own investigation...we could get, Maya to help. I think we may be able to find out what she's doing, and plan for it." She breathed out, and rubbed her eyes. "But for the moment, we have the downfall of a house to plan. And Ryld is coming home."

"He is." He put a hand on the small of her back. "A child I never met. I don't really know what to expect, or how to feel."

Imryne leaned back a bit, into his hand. "It's going to be a bit strange, but I think we'll get through it. He loves you."

"He loves you too. I wonder what the effect of Star Dance would be on him," he mused. "Can it help him to walk or talk?"

She ran a hand over her hair. "I'm hoping it'll help a little bit, at least. When he was little, I would get flashes of the person locked inside of him, and I was convinced there was some way to help his body be more under his control. It's worth a try."

"Maybe the illithid can help as well," Jevan suggested. "Or Maya."

"Maya, I think. Those two are connected somehow, from the time they spent together. He can speak through her, if nothing else."

"True. We had best go warn the guard." He gave her a long look. "This may be a bit tough on us, love. He is probably going to be a lot of work and some pain."

She felt a flash of pain, swiftly buried. Ryld was coming home. It would be all right, once he was back in Melrae and safe. It had to be. "I know. But I think it'll be worth it, to have him home again." She turned and pulled Jevan into a hug, feeling his muscles move as he shifted to keep his balance. "I love you."

"I love you more every day," he told her, and she kissed him lingeringly. Then they went to warn the guard, and the family gathered in the courtyard to wait. The immediate family was there, as well as the extended family who were old enough to remember Ryld's birth and the aftermath of it. Most of the husbands were here, and Gaussiara, Nizana, Mizzrym, and Omareth were also nearby. Omareth had been twenty cycles old when Ryld had "died"; he was the youngest sibling to remember Ryld.

Greyanna was true to her word. An hour after she had left Melrae, a pinpoint of light appeared in midair just on the other side of it, where Imrae had stood a few ilit ago. Mist issued from it, and out of the mist rolled Ryld, apparently given a push from hands on the other side of the portal. When he was fully through, the mist retreated and disappeared, leaving Ryld alone on the other side of the black iron gates.

The guards had been briefed and sprang into action, opening the gates and wheeling Ryld inside. "We need to search him and the chair," Imryne said as she rushed forward. Jevan was beside her, and helped her wheel her unmoving son into the outer house. Heedless of any danger Ryld might have brought with him, she dropped to her knees beside the chair. She wrapped both of her hands around one of his limp hands. "I'm very, very glad you're home."

Ryld had raised his head jerkily, and she looked up into the blue eyes that were so like his father's. He smiled, and her heart tore into a thousand tiny pieces. There were tears streaming down his face. She took a sobbing breath, and rose to a half-standing position, sliding her arms around him.

The chair and Ryld were both free of magic, but even cursory inspection revealed much that was wrong with Ryld. His elbows and knees were scarred so badly that they were frozen in place, held fast by a webbing of scar. Even if Ryld had had the muscle control to stand, he would not have been able to straighten his knees. His whole body was badly scarred, as if someone had been working him over with a knife.

"Let's take him up to our rooms," Imryne said, standing. Then she paused. "To the matron's apartments," she amended. "Fewer stairs between here and there. We might as well start moving, starting with Ryld."

So they went, a crowd of them with Ryld's wheeled chair at their center. Jevan carried Ryld when there were stairs to be navigated, and brought him into the empty main room of the matron's apartment at the center of House Melrae. Imryne could see nothing but Ryld for a moment, feeling the hands of her spouses on her shoulders and back, holding her up. "Maya," she said, the breath between her lips a whisper. "Would you be willing to try letting Ryld speak through you?"

Maya was there. Of course Maya was there, and the abrupt silence in the room made Imryne aware that there had been murmurs running through the crowd. "Certainly, Mother." She stepped forward and laid her hands on Ryld's drooping head, closing her eyes. An expression of pain passed over her fine features. "Ryld, slow down, I can't talk that fast. Mother, he says he loves you and father. All of us."

"And I love him." Imryne's smile hurt, unexpectedly.

"He has a lot of things to say, what do you want to know?"

She considered the most urgent. "What they did that scarred him so badly, why, and if there's anything we can do to help make him more physically comfortable. And if there's anything we can do to help him speak to us on his own."

Maya took a breath and spent a few moments in silent communion with her brother. Her mouth worked a bit as she concentrated. "The scarring comes from all the blood they took, the veins collapsed in his arms and they were uncaring most of the time how they got the blood. The scars formed from natural healing. They didn't want to waste magical healing on him unless it was absolutely necessary. He is used to the chair but would like to lie down at night, if possible. It makes him feel more normal. He is capable of establishing a link to your mind to let you hear him but he could only dream you bits and pieces without physical contact. Only with me could he establish a remote link."

Listening to Maya speak, Imryne fought her horror. They didn't let him lie down at night. He had literally been in that chair or one very much like it for thirty cycles. "What does he need to do to establish a link?" she asked, trying to push the horror away.

"Just your hands on him," Maya said, opening her eyes. "He says he can do it with as many people as can touch him at once, but it helps if they're relatives."

"Well, we have plenty of those around." She stepped over the Ryld, laid a hand on his thin shoulder. There was so little flesh on him, just skin stretched over bone. "I think it'll be easier if Maya doesn't have to translate."

Ryld shuddered at her touch, an involuntary movement that she couldn't interpret. The others clustered around, Jevan's hand near Imryne's Tar and Urlryn at Ryld's other shoulder, the children clustered by his legs. Angaste clambered gently into Ryld's lap, stuck her thumb in her mouth, and closed her eyes.

She heard Ryld's voice, and nearly wept. Mother, Father. It's so good to actually be able to talk to you. And the rest of you.

"It's so good to hear you, Ryld. I'm glad you're home."

It's good to be home, and away from Greyanna. The name tasted sour in Ryld's mind.

"I'm glad she finally got desperate enough to be willing to give you up," Imryne said.

His words held a brash disdain. She is very desperate now. She is sure that Vandree will go on the offensive against her. As much as she fears you and Father, she still fears Vandree more.

"I'm sure she does." So would I. "She might be crazy, but she's not stupid, and she knows that Imrae doesn't like her. We just need to find out where Vandree is weak, other than the obvious."

That is what she is looking for too, he said. She thinks the drider are the answer, undercut them and Vandree is weak again in comparison to Xalyth. Imrae is as old as Jhalass. She bears no more children, and her daughters are all dead. It is a house waiting to fall.

Imryne shook her head slightly. "Underestimating Imrae, and Vandree in general, is a mistake. That crystal she uses to control the drider is the most obvious of their weak points. I think it's an Ellistraee artifact. And I think, in the hands of an Ellistraee priest, it will do far more than just control the drider."

There was a tremor in Ryld's shoulder, and Imryne wondered if this conversation with so many people listening was tiring him. His mind-voice was strong, and he gave no impression that he wanted to stop speaking. It may split them apart or kill them outright, Greyanna suspects, but she thinks that it will do no more than that. Ellistraee magic tends to be hidden to Lloth worshippers. I would bet on something else happening, or different magic emerging in the hands a true Ellistraee worshipper.

Imryne remembered the mural in the Ellistraee temple where the illithids nested now, hidden away by the protective magic of the place. "I think so. And it may do something else entirely combined with the staff." There was a feeling of agreement from Ryld. "We can find out Vandree's other weaknesses. We'll see if it's been long enough for Imrae to become overconfident."

She isn't overconfident. She fears dying. Larynda now gone and only one daughter remains, one she can't talk to.

"If she dies, her house falls." So fragile we all are, when one female is the soul and the heart of the power of a noble House. "She needs a daughter. She can't be planning on living forever."

She may be trying. The drider patrols are not really patrols. Greyanna knew that much. They search the underdark for old Indran and Ellistraee temples, any temples really, searching for magic to extend her life.

"And if she finds it...I can see where she wants this to go." Imryne paused, thought for a moment. "It's an interesting opening, though. Imrae wants something. If she thinks she's found it, she might be tempted to overextend herself."

"We might be able to provide that," Jevan said. "Give her a whiff of a way to live longer, coax her into the underdark with as many drider as possible. Then hit her with the combined forces of Xalyth, and our allies. That causes a lot of causalities, though."

Wasted life was not high on Imryne's list of favorite things. "No, not really. And I'm not interested in convincing Pellanistra to start talking to her mother again. Which reminds me, we still need to find a drider for Oblodra."

Ryld broke in with, They sleep for thirty minutes per day, no more, no less. But it is a very deep sleep.

"So if we found one alone and asleep, we might be able to transport it to Oblodra," Imryne mused. She lifted her gaze, considering, and caught a glimpse of something that made her frown. Lesrak had not joined his brothers and sisters in clustering around Ryld. Instead, he was standing across the room, at the door, watching the group of them. His head was lifted high, revealing his bare throat.

He looked so much like his father in that moment, the quiet, impassive gaze with an unspeakable pride in it. Then Lesrak noticed her looking at him and turned away, hiding his face.

Jevan said, "Our best bet is to find a patrol outside the city. There's an idea, but it's dangerous for Sabal." At his name, Sabal lifted his head, looking up at his father with an expression that was only slightly anxious. "My coat is not limited to the amount of weight it can carry. Its weight limit is how much the person wearing it can carry. Sabal is gaining strength daily, without having to be angered. He could lift one, and if he can lift one he can fly one to Oblodra."

She thought about this. "Can he lift a drider and Maya at the same time? Because even though people here never look up, if someone does..."

Sabal said, "I can, Mother. I'm sure of it. If I can't now, give me a strand. Father was right, I'm getting stronger with training." There was still that anxiety, that deference. It was familiar, but Imryne couldn't place it and didn't have the time to think on it right now.

She glanced at Maya, still standing with her hands on Ryld's baby-fine hair. "If it doesn't work, you'll both be killed." And would that be a bad thing? She gritted her teeth, trying to keep that thought quiet.

From the hurt flash in Maya's eyes, she had caught that. Maya turned her face away from Imryne. Jevan apparently hadn't noticed. "It would risk them both," he said. "We need something to keep the drider from moving or some type of poison to make it sleep. If they sleep as deeply as Ryld says, we might be able to catch it one day and wait until it sleeps the next day and then transport it."

"Driders have odd metabolisms. We might be able to come up with something to either paralyze it or keep it asleep, though. We'll think of something." Under her hands, Ryld was trembling more than ever. "Ryld, are you all right?"

I've never spoken to this many people at once. It's an effort.

Imryne tightened her hand on his shoulder. "All right, everyone, let's start moving things. Challay, you're in charge of the laboratory. Maya and Sabal, pack your things and help Angaste pack hers. Lesrak--" She paused, looked around. Lesrak was nowhere in evidence. "Well, never mind Lesrak. Faeryl and Ulitree, go find Gaussiara and tell her that we'll need more hands to help with the moving."

Ulitree looked up at Imryne. "Can I stay here? I could keep Ryld company."

She considered for a moment, then nodded. "Very well. Urlryn, Tar, Jevan, we have some work to do. Let's go."



(Sabal, in Fanaedar)

"There."

Father's voice was low, almost a whisper. Sabal followed where he had motioned, and saw that the squad of three drider they had been stalking had finally settled own and fallen asleep. He heard his sister's intake of breath, and put his hand on her shoulder. "Kill the other two first, then grab the remaining one?" Father asked, looking at Mother, who was an indistinct shadow next to him.

Mother shifted, unfolded herself slightly. "Yes. That way they might not realize one's missing right away."

Father nodded, then rose. Mother followed suit, and Sabal and Maya climbed to their feet. It had been a long day, filled with an urgency that Sabal didn't quite understand. Through it, Maya had been nearly silent, her mouth so tightly closed that Sabal wondered if she were afraid to speak. Mother was still angry with the both of them, he knew. It was the only reason she would risk the two of them like this.

He was trying to be obedient, not to anger her further. He was afraid of very little, but the look Mother got in her eyes sometimes--

Best not to think about it. Best just to follow Father, to approach the sleeping drider. The spider body was lying on the ground, and the drow body lay along the spider back, exposing the belly and the tender join between drow and spider. They were weak there, Sabal knew from experience. All three of the driders had closed eyes, though the eye-spots on their cheeks still glistened, unequipped with lids.

Father had one of his swords out, and was stalking the drider. His sword flashed out, and a great wound appeared in the join of his target. The eyes--the drow eyes--opened, and it tried to take a breath, or to speak. Then blood and things fell out of the wound, and a look of terror crossed the drider's face.

It closed its eyes and the spider body convulsed, and it was dead.

Easy. Sabal lifted his sword, prepared to follow suit--

"No."

He stopped, looked back at his mother. She had a look on her face that was unreadable, somewhere between horror and rage. "The other one," she said quietly. "Kill the other, Sabal."

He did not question, just did as he was told. That one died just as quickly, and then the four of them began putting silenced chains around the drider slated for experimentation. Sabal wondered why Mother had wanted this one in particular spared. Something only she could see, probably. He had every faith in his mother's ability to see what all others could not.

Between him, Maya, and Mother and Father, they had the drider pretty well secured before it woke. It thrashed, straining at the chains, trying to shriek through the gag that Father had put in its mouth. All four of them held it down, and Sabal tried not to shudder too much at the feeling of the chitinous carapace covered with a fine coating of bristly hair. The drider fought and fought, and over and over Sabal had to reach for the control that Father had been teaching him. There was something about being so close to this monster that made his vision go red and his mind try to shut off, like it had when--

Sabal tried not to think about it.

The drider finally exhausted itself, the drow body flopping forward. "Oblodra knows you're coming," Father told Sabal. He shrugged out of his coat, handing it to Sabal, who pulled it on. "Maya, tie yourself to your brother. Good luck, you two."

Maya secured herself to Sabal's back, and Sabal triggered the coat and grasped the place where all of the chains had been secured together, around the spider legs. Up, he thought, and began to rise. I can do this.

He hit the end of the chains and paused, shuddering as he started to take the full weight of the drider. He set his shoulders and surged upward.

The drider came free of the ground, and Maya said into his ear, "You did it!" She sounded happy and pleased, and Sabal warmed to his sister's praise. "Now, down the street, don't go too fast."

Ungainly but sure, the strange trio flew away down the street, leaving Mother and Father behind.



(Imryne, in Fanaedar)

"What was the change of drider about?" Jevan asked.

Imryne and Jevan had hidden themselves in an abandoned building while the children were taking the drider to Oblodra. Imryne peered out the window and then retreated further inside. The floor creaked alarmingly, and dust filled the air, stirred by their movements.

Her mind was stuck, still, stunned. Oh, Goddess. Ellistraee. And here I thought my heart could break no more. She turned to face Jevan, whose blue eyes had a sharply concerned look. She let out a breath in a sigh. "I should have let Sabal kill him." She remembered the moment, the impulse, the recognition. "That drider--half of him was my older brother Quave, once."

Jevan blinked and then went even paler than usual. "Love, you might have wanted to let him die. Oblodra experimenting on him may be very painful."

She nodded, and bowed her head. "I know. I couldn't let Sabal have his blood on his hands, though. Let that be on mine."

"I understand." He was silent for a moment, still looking worried. "I think it best not to say anything to the rest of the family, except Tar and Urlryn, so your sisters' and brothers' hopes don't get dashed if he dies in the process."

She raised her hand, rubbed her temples gently. "I think so. If they can restore him, then good. If they can't...we've thought he was dead for years. And I have no idea what being a drider will do to your mind."

"Nothing good, I assume. He may not be the brother you once knew." Jevan shook his head. "So Xalyth or Kilsek was capturing or taking in patrols for their drider experiments."

"I wondered where they got so many warriors to change into drider. Now I know." She grimaced. "All of the warriors that we've lost, all of the bodies that never came home...I think I know what happened to most of them."

"Taken to turn into drider." Jevan sat down with his back against the wall, and motioned for her to come sit in front of him. She did so, seating herself with his legs pressed comfortingly against her hips. Jevan wrapped his arms around her and pulled her back so she was resting against his chest. "Oblodra can fix it, or if nothing else at least give them peace."

Imryne relaxed into Jevan's embrace. "Depending on what their minds are like...giving them peace may be better than having a thousand warriors running around half-mad."

"Even if they only come up with a way to kill them and not transform them back, that might be better. If they come back damaged mentally...well, it's worse. I am right with that choice if I have to be. Are you?"

She thought about it in silence, weighing the idea. "I still hope that we'll be able to get them back. But at this point, all of them are worse than dead. If they die, then at least whatever's left of them will be at peace."

"A lot of houses will finally have bodies to entomb."

Imryne closed her eyes, sliding down a little further in Jevan's arms. "Yes. I remember my mother was so upset when Quave's patrol disappeared. All ten of them, just gone. She cried for days, and without a body to bury, it seemed like there was no end to it. He was the first son she lost, and the first time I ever saw her truly distraught."

She felt him take a deep breath in. "At least this way, the houses who lost people will know. Better to know, than to wonder."

In her mind, she saw Triel again, holding her head in her hands. She had only been twenty cycles old, still living in the matron's quarters, long before the trouble with Rauva had started. The screaming had not frightened her, or the crying. What had terrified her was the silence her mother had sunk into after the screaming. She had been surrounded by her husbands, each of them with a hand on her hair or her shoulder or her leg. The only one not touching her had Gaussiara on his lap, and Imryne was crouched by his knee.

"It will be all right," Caelkoth had whispered to the two girls. Gaussiara had one hand clenched in Caelkoth's long hair and her thumb in her mouth. "It will be all right."

Except that it had not been, not for a long time. Triel, after a few days spent in silence, had taken up her duties once more. But her mouth was held in a straight, thin line, and it had been a long time until she had smiled again. It had been even longer until her eyes had smiled as well.

"At least House Kilsek has already paid the price for what they did," she said quietly.

"Yes, in a rather dramatic fashion. I haven't been back there much to see what's left, but they say that they are still getting bones out of that pile."

"It was a large house, and I think they were almost all home at the time," she said. "I know we had to do it, the other option was to let Vandree kill our house. But I can still wish things hadn't gone the way they did, sometimes."

He tightened his arms around her. "It made life interesting, but we survived."

Imryne let out a long sigh. "We did. And continue to do so. Despite everything. I have regrets, but surviving isn't among them. Not any more."

"Good." He lowered his head, and his lips touched the sensitive skin right below her ear. "I suppose this would be a totally inappropriate time to ask you if you are wearing anything under that dress?"

The touch made shivers go down her spine, in a good way. "Mmmm. While I appreciate that, Sabal and Maya are going to be back soon, and we need to be ready to go when they arrive. You keep that up, though, and I'm going to be tempted to make them wait."

He didn't stop nibbling. "It will take them a good half an hour over and back."

"Well, the answer is no, I'm not wearing anything." She twisted around in his arms, claiming his lips for her own, straddling his lap. The hunger came over her abruptly, and shook her in its teeth.

There were few preliminaries, only rearranging clothing to provide access. They were silent except for harsh breathing, heedful of the possibility of passersby. She gasped when he entered her, burying her face in his neck and breathing in his scent.

They were still for a moment, and then began to move. It was slow at first, but the hunger quickly overtook both of them, and keeping silent proved to be a challenge that they were almost unequal to. They managed it, but it was a very near thing.

By the time the children returned, Imryne and Jevan were finished and mostly arranged once more. Jevan took his coat from Sabal, and carried the three of them back to Melrae. All three of them were levitating, holding on to Jevan as he flew. "Did everything go well?" Imryne asked Sabal.

"Thing was heavy, but I got it there fine. It didn't thrash all that much. It got a little freaked by going over Oblodra's wall. As long as I was just a few feet off the ground it was fine, but over that wall was another story."

Imryne glanced over at Sabal, and then frowned. Quave had not been afraid of heights; rather the opposite. Triel had always told the story of how proud he had been when he had acquired the ability to levitate, once his hair started to grow. I thought he was going to go right up to the roof and keep going, she would say with a smile. "They must be very afraid of falling, since they can't levitate," she mused. "And I imagine that if one broke a leg, it would be killed."

"A lot of those legs would break on impact," Jevan said. "They aren't normal spider legs. Spiders can jump, but those are built for holding just enough weight to hold the body. An impact from some height would probably disable it badly."

She thought about what she knew about how drider were arranged on the inside. Little enough, since drider bodies were hard to come by. "Interesting. Falling would be fatal for them. And I wonder if the fact that they don't sleep more than a half hour a day has anything to do with the spider body? Maybe they suffocate if they stay off their feet too long. It would make healing broken legs impossible." She tightened her grip on Jevan's arm. On Jevan's other arm, Maya was clinging and looking down at the ground in concentration, her eyes darting, trying to find all eyes before they saw them. "We can test out the theory, see if we can find an advantage."

Jevan glanced over at her, and she almost smiled when she saw the glint in his eye. "Let's drop the children off and go see what we can see. You and I, I think."

They dropped off Maya and Sabal at Melrae and headed out once more. As they flew, they discussed what they wanted to do. creating the illusion of a solid floor over a chasm was decided on as the tactic, and it only took them a little while to find an appropriate chasm and a drider patrol approaching. The chasm itself dropped about twenty feet; the path usually led around it, but with a little work on the illusion with Imryne's staff, the path appeared to be smooth and straight.

They heard the all-too-familiar noise of driders approaching, their legs scratching and scraping the ground. They came around the corner, and Imryne and Jevan broke into a run. The driders followed. For creatures as large as they were, they were surprisingly quick--by the time Imryne and Jevan had reached the edge of the chasm the driders were right behind them. They soared over.

The driders fell.

Two of them did, anyway. The third managed somehow to twist himself around and catch the edge of the drop with his drow arms. The spider legs scrabbled uselessly at the side of the chasm, those two arms holding up the heavy spider body. Jevan turned back, but the drider's hands slipped and he went tumbling to the bottom of the crevasse.

Imryne dismissed the illusion of the path but kept up the one that she had cast that obscured her and Jevan's identities. Crouched by the edge, they could see that the fall had outright killed one--his head was smashed open, blood and shards of white bone showing. The second had four broken legs, but was otherwise apparently unharmed. The third had made it to the bottom unharmed, and was trying without success to get out of the crevasse, to escape.

The second drider's head was dipping forward, and his chest heaved as if he were having trouble breathing. There was a sick feeling coming over Imryne as she watched. Disturbingly, it felt as if to sit and watch these drider dying was somehow cruel. Just monsters, she told herself.

But if these were just monsters, what was Quave?

She swallowed nausea, and saw the whole drider turn to see his dying companion. The dying one's body was shaking, the jointed abdomen flexing as much as it could, hands opening and clenching rhythmically as he struggled for breath. The whole one's face twisted, and it began to make a keening noise that made the back of Imryne's jaw ache. Grief, was her first thought. That sounds like grief.

It couldn't be grief. It had to be a call to the others, a call for help. But the whole one was staring at its dying companion, shifting back and forth in what Imryne could only see as agitation at its helplessness, making that terrible noise. She touched Jevan's arm. "I don't think I can stand this. They're drider, but this is cruel."

"I think we know enough, the injured one is dying, they have to keep moving otherwise their weight causes suffocation," he said, nodding.

"Yes. And they...seem to care about one another. I don't know what that means for a drider, but I'd swear that was grief."

Jevan laid his hand on hers. "They have probably lived together for so long and fought together for so long, it's like a family to them. Let me finish this." He squeezed her hand and then was gone, flying down into the crevasse. The uninjured drow rose up, trying to attack Jevan, but Jevan stayed high and parried until he got a clean shot, running one of his sword through the neck and into the chest of the drider. It collapsed, blood gushing from the wound. Jevan killed the injured one as well, then cleaned off his blade and flew up to collect Imryne.

"Home," she murmured to him. He nodded, and began to fly.


(Imryne, in House Melrae)

Ryld was propped up in bed, surrounded by cushions. He was dressed in robes of Melrae blue that hid his legs and elbows, though they could do nothing to hide the fact that he was still, too still. Ulitree had been here when Imryne arrived, fleeing wordlessly when the door opened. Ryld raised his head with a jerk, looking Imryne in the eye for a moment before his strength failed and his head fell back to the cushion.

"Don't," Imryne said quietly. She crossed the room to sit on the edge of Ryld's bed, reaching out to slide her hand into his. It was so good to be able to touch him, to know that he was here and safe. "I want to ask you something," she said. "We have a potion that may help you, and I was hoping you'd let me use it on you. It's called Star Dance."

His voice entered her mind. What do you think it will do, Mother?

"I don't know. I'm hoping it'll help you have more control over your body, or at least reduce some of the scarring. There are side effects that can be uncomfortable. It's an aphrodisiac."

She could almost feel him evaluating his options. I am willing to try it, Mother, if you think it will help.

Imryne smiled a little. "I don't think it'll hurt, at least. I'll give it to you, and then I'll leave you alone for a few hours. If you need help, can you contact your sister and let us know?"

Certainly.

She fetched the potion, uncorking the bottle and holding it to his lips. When the last drop had been drunk, he closed his eyes, his thin face contorting with pain or elation or both. Imryne retreated, closing the door after her, letting her son be for the moment.



(Challay, in House Melrae)

Where was he?

Challay walked down hallway after hallway, looking for her brother. Lesrak wasn't in the laboratory, or the kitchen, or the cathedral. He wasn't in any of the niches in the house that they had used as places to hide since they were children. He wasn't with the guards, and Sabal claimed not to have seen him. Maya had just shaken her head when she'd asked. Faeryl, too.

There was only one place she hadn't checked, somewhere she hadn't thought of until just now. She wound up the stairs to the old set, the place where they had lived before Jevan had joined them and Father had died. The rooms were abandoned for the moment; Challay had been thinking about asking her mother if she could have them. If she ever gets over having Ryld back long enough to notice the rest of us.

The door was standing half open, and swung inward at her touch. She stepped into the set and began to look around. It seemed so much bigger when I was small. She looked into the bedrooms, the storage rooms, and finally the room she had left for last.

Father's lab.

There were still chairs and tables and shelves here, though all were empty. And at Father's bench, where he had done so much of his work, there was a familiar form sitting with his head down on the wood of the bench, cradled in his arms.

Challay came up behind Lesrak, put a hand on his shoulder. "Hey, little brother."

He raised his head, and the whites of his eyes were dark. "Big sister. Did Mother send you looking for me?"

She tried not to flinch at the raw hope in his voice. "No. I hadn't seen you for a bit, so I wanted to make sure you were all right."

Disappointment made his usually-lovely voice dull and leaden. "Oh." He dropped his head back into the table, with a thump that made Challay wince.

"Lesrak..." She pulled a chair over and sat down next to him. "Are you going to tell me what's wrong?"

There was a long moment of silence. Then without lifting his head, Lesrak said, "It's as if we don't exist any more. As if I don't exist. I don't think she even realizes she hasn't given me a throat-band yet, that I'm past the age where she should have decided where I'm supposed to be."

The truth of it burned in Challay's throat. "I know. And with Grandmother dead now, she'll have even less time."

"You have a place, at least. First daughter and heir. I never have, not since Father died, at least."

Challay touched his hair. The silver-white strands of it caught her roughened and scarred fingertips. "Mind telling me what's really wrong, Lesrak? I know you're not easy in your skin, and I promise I'll talk to Tar. Tar can always make Mother listen to reason. But that's an old hurt. Why are you here now?"

He shivered, then raised his head. "It's just--I had at least a small place, before. First son. Not much, but better than nothing. Then--" He shut his mouth and turned his face away from his sister.

"Ryld." She took a sharp breath. "I know."

There was another long, reluctant silence. "I can't begrudge her joy. She doesn't have enough as it is." He rubbed his eyes, dropped his hand to the bench. "I could wish she'd ever looked at me like she does at him. And I could wish that I could ever make her as happy as having him back has made her."

She stroked his hair. He looked so much like their father right now, and it made her heart hurt to see the pain in his eyes. "I'll take care of you, Lesrak," she said. "Haven't I always? My favorite brother."

Lesrak glanced at her. "You mean that."

"Always, little brother." She smiled. "And about Ryld...Lesrak, Mother's wanted him back for so long. Maybe him being back will help with the episodes. Maybe there won't be any more."

"Do you think?"

So much screaming, so many nights where she and Lesrak and Faeryl had huddled beneath the blankets of her bed, listening to Tar and Father try to calm Mother. Waking in the morning sometimes to find the walls of the set bloody. Ilit when Mother had not even remembered their names. Wondering if the next time would be the time that Tar and Father would let their attention slip long enough for Mother to accomplish what she really wanted. Lesrak was too young to remember the worst of them. Fortunately.

Challay loved her mother. But she feared her, and the demons in her mind, and the possibility that she had inherited those demons.

She put her arm around her brother's shoulders. "I hope. Come on, Lesrak. Let's get something to eat."

She pulled him up and out of the chair, and guided him to the door. I'll ask Mother for these rooms, and to give Lesrak a throat-band, she told herself.

I promise I'll take care of you, little brother.