by C Z Edwards
“Priest,” she corrected. “We’re all equal. I believe in the principles the Pantheon represents. It’s like asking if I believe in mathematics, Cedri. Did the personification of wisdom spark a second instance of creation solely on the knowledge that the first creation existed, under the control of the personification of energy? No, that’s a supper story. But the sun’s energy exists, and wisdom is the tool we use to describe it. Balance is the basis of the alchemy of the universe. Water is the essence of life; fire creates and destroys. Love keeps us breathing. All eleven of the Pantheon are meditation devices. But no Archilian has ever seen a god, and therefore, we do not say we know they exist.”
“What if I don’t like the rituals?” I asked, as she sorted tightly bound bundles of clothing from the pile. I saw small books, what looked like a small jewel case, and a medicaments box.
“Then you don’t have to participate,” she said. “Just don’t interfere.” She looked up and shoved off her hat. “Most of the other faiths’ priests think we’re apostates. On that, you’ll fit in more than you stand out.”
“Assuming they let you live?”
She shrugged. “If I can convince them I felt called to protect one of our own, and they accede that Rien’s novica vows make her one of ours... it should mitigate.” She piled the books and small cases to one side, shoved all of the clothes back in, and started down the slope.
“Must your children be oblates? Your future ones?”
“Only if both parents agree,” she said, watching me from the corner of her eye. “My duty to my order is complete. My sister, Darav, and I have replaced ourselves. Why?”
“My legal training tells me to never sign onto anything until I have all the details,” I said. “Do you want more children?”
“What if I say no, I think I’m done harboring souls?” she challenged.
“You take the risk, so it’s your decision,” I said. “And I suppose in time we’ll learn to be each other’s very good friends.”
“Because you do want children?”
“I want a family,” I said. “How its shaped, I don’t know yet, but a family starts with two people deciding to raise a child. If you’d rather we raise orphans, I’ll agree. They need not be of my body. If you don’t want a family though, we shouldn’t try to be anything but friends. We’ll make each other more miserable, because we can’t escape each other.”
“And if I say I want six, as close to one per year as we can manage?” she asked.
I sighed. “I will spend more time working on contract law, because my share of the partnership won’t feed us forever. And may not exist at all by the time this war is over.”
She looked over at me, skeptical. “Six?”
I shrugged. “My mother always said to aim for three, because no single child should have to bear both parents alone, and two is like having two cats. The children never learn to fully ignore each other, so when one wants to play and the other doesn’t, they both get annoyed. A third child means the one who wants to play usually has at least one playmate. But children’s clothing only lasts about three childhoods. Which means if we have the fourth, we should just go ahead and have six, because we have to replace everything anyway. We’ll need a large house, we’ll need assistance, and we’ll have to live in a city, unless you think Archilavast will hire me as counsel. Because one of us will have to support us. Honest priests don’t get wealthy, and you don’t strike me as willing to embezzle a fortune out of your temple. If I’d allow that, which I won’t. But if you want six children, I’m amenable.”
“You’ll change them — ” she started.
“And bathe them and feed them and walk them in the night. And love them and play with them and put them to bed. I even have a reference as to my child-tending.” True, we didn’t have Nik all the time, but Lin could tell Kya that I’m competent with babies and toddlings. I let her chew on that until we got to the bottom of the slope and the lowest pool. “Why would I let you have all the fun?”
We tended to build stuff we might need into our springs, if we had to do any rock work. A scrub board was simply a flat, soft stone with grooves carved in, that we set at a comfortable angle to the water’s surface. And we always ran a channel to a privy and a pebble leach pit. Quin studied engineering, after all. He preferred anything else to water-works, but we’re none of us willing to drink our own piss. We had to haul rocks anyway, we might as well. The lowest bowl was the one we altered most, for the sake of the channel. We built up the edges with stones and ash-sand mortar, so it was deeper than the two above, and we laid stones around the edges, to keep muck out of the deep.
What happened next, I almost expected, and I thought she might be testing me the way I was testing her. But I’d also been counting what she pulled out of her pack, and put back. Kya would need more clothing, and sooner than the end of autumn. For now, she had a good stock of exceptionally small small clothes, a white linen gown, not quite enough stockings, two long, light twill coats, one blue and one scarlet, the latter lined with fine chain mesh, and four changes of shirts, breeches and waistcoats, including what she was wearing. We had a couple hours of sunlight, and should have a warm, dry overnight. It only made sense to strip to her skin and wash everything at once.
Galantier bathed in groups. It’s always been easier to build one big bath house over a hot spring. Before Rien came, the five of us usually took the water together, because playing together matters as much as working together. We didn’t include Rien, by her choice — she’s probably the most private person I’ve ever known, mostly because the Monarch and the Ascendars must live in public. When Nekane, then Marli came to us, we began informally setting hours for men separate from the women, and that calcified when Reya and Sashi arrived. I suspected the hours would fall apart again once we had more people, but for now, we took turns.
But our division would be unusual in most places. Skin is skin; we all have it, and we are all happier when we’re clean. Kya didn’t make a performance of removing her clothing. She unlaced, then toed off her boots first, standing there on the stones in her stocking feet. Her breeches followed, then her stockings. She was careful not to let the sun burn her, because her face and hands weren’t much darker than her thighs. She didn’t turn her back on me, and she didn’t stare me down.
I was equally filthy, still sticky from fruit juice, and I’d made my own decision. Plus, I didn’t have a spare set of clothes in my day pack. If I wanted clean clothing tomorrow, I’d have to wash what I was wearing now. I kept only the soap box, then set my pack, tools, and belt well away from the water, and left my boots there, too.
“Are you coming in?” Kya asked.
“If you agree,” I said. “I can wait, if you’d rather.”
“Come along,” she said. She unbuttoned her cuffs, then the neck of her shirt, and pulled it over her head.
I’d known she’s graceful and strong. I didn’t expect the sculptural quality of that grace, and I should have. As she unwound her breast band, every muscle in her shoulders shifted under her skin. Her belly was ridged with muscle, and I realized I’d be content to just watch her move. Even if she’d never been trained to do anything with her ingeniae, she lived in a deadly body, with an archer’s shoulders and a climber’s legs. Every movement was like watching a fine clock operate. And lovely breasts, though I had little comparison. Nipples the same deep rose as her lips. Large? Small? I didn’t know. Somewhere in the middle. They felt soft and smooth in our dreams, and they were always the second-richest repository of her scent.
Moment of truth, then. I pulled my shirt over my head. That exposed my scars. All of them. The lacework of what skin I left intact shows clearly how elaborate they once were. I watched her, to see how she’d react.
She hid it well, but the extent of my scars surprised her. I saw her breath stop, and she turned her body just a little. I’ve seen Rien do that, and Quin. It’s a swor
d wielder’s move, turning aside to present a smaller, more armored target, and to protect the heart and lungs and belly. They didn’t even know they did it when they’re anxious.
I didn’t like seeing her afraid, but dismay brought me down to three-quarter staff, instead of draining half the blood in my body to my breeches front. Better to just get it over. Male anatomy looks ridiculous, whether we’re shriveled from the cold or sagging in the heat.
Look, yes, when one lived with four other men for five years, there was an inevitable prong measuring. We were actually that ridiculous. Especially since one of us arrived as a cocky sixteen year old. Daval has improved significantly over the past five years. He was an opinionated little shit back then, and seemed to think he was extravagantly over endowed. Maybe for his size; he was half a head shorter than me. But yes, there came a time when the only thing to do was for everyone to lay ourselves out beside the ruler. I’m not saying who was largest in any dimension, nor any of his other criteria for superior masculine equipage. I will say none of it mattered nearly as much as any sixteen year old seemed to think.
I’ve never been one to let my body get in my way. If she wanted to make comment over a stiff prong, that was her interest. I had laundry, and so did she. I was closer to the scrub rock, so I just dumped everything I’d been wearing into the soak, and followed.
But... two cats can’t ignore each other. They try. They’ll turn their backs, pretend to be vastly interested in separate dust motes, but the cats are still intensely aware of one another. “Do you truly think your council will discipline you?” I asked as I tromped on my filthy clothing.
“Oh, yes,” she said. “There will be discipline. I know they won’t expel me from the order. I know they won’t deny me my children. Or my parents, or my brother and sister. They won’t deny me the rites, nor shun me. That’s not our way. I don’t entirely think they’ll confine me to quarters, either. But at minimum, there will be tendays of questions and second-guessing, and a formal inquiry, and we’re so disappointed in you and how could you? And honestly? A beating would be faster and less annoying.”
“Ayuh,” I said. “That’s a Lethian council, too. So in fact all of the sects do that.” I watched her out of the corner of my eye as she followed my lead and dumped her pack into the water, then stepped in. She turned about halfway away, so her right side faced my left, and we were facing opposite directions. So many perfect curves on her.
“All people do it,” she said.
“What is the worst likely?” I asked.
“Two possibilities, depending on our actions before I go back to Archilavast or we re-open the Sancta Sophia. Both depend on you. Are we making use of what we’re both ignoring?”
“Not right now,” I said. “And not until you answer the questions you keep dodging.”
That caught her attention, finally, and got her to cross the pool to me. We were standing face to face, naked body to naked body, close enough that not touching each other was the more difficult task. And she was furious. “Sharing every bloody dream for six years is not enough of a formal introduction for you?”
I realized I was coldly furious, too. “I expect that you and Darav spent at least a few hours figuring out the shape of your intentions before you tumbled each other. I know it’s a rite, but you didn’t commit to it blind. All I want is the same respect, Kya.”
I saw her leash her temper, then put it away. She took my hands in hers. “Then the first rule of an argument is this. We can fight for as long as it takes, but we do it holding hands so we can’t forget the partnership.”
“And if I need to walk away to put my thoughts in order, so I don’t say what’s unforgivable?”
“Say that, don’t just go.”
She was right there, so close. The easy way would have been to just kiss her, or at least try, and let our bodies take over. “What are the two options?” I asked instead, tamping down my fury.
“Neither the Wisdomians nor the Archilian Counsel have any reason to account for your interests. If we are merely working towards becoming very good friends, or merely lovers, or even merely betrothed, they will demand I dissolve whatever relationship we’ve established, and separate myself from you. They will require I augment my defenses to block you, and will do so for me until such time as I can do it entirely on my own. I will be expected to learn how to do so. I will be monitored, and my obedience will be required. Not simply because you were Lethian, but in part, and because we Wisdomians are not supposed to become political partisans.”
“Yet you were escorting the Ascendar — ”
“I was escorting a man. One potentially important to our interests, but merely a man. Fine distinction, but a real one.”
“Fair, I suppose,” I sighed. “The other option?”
“We marry. In full, Archilian rite, with sworn witnesses to attest to our completion of the entire rite.”
“Which means?” I asked.
“Three tendays, bound hand-to-hand together. No breaks, no stops. No moments of privacy, no walking away from each other. Completed? The marriage cannot be broken, except by the unanimous consent of the full Archilian Council. They’ve never granted a divorce petition, so they won’t force one on people unwilling to be divorced.”
“I do live in a treehouse,” I said. “So do you, now. We have to climb sixty feet at least twice a day.”
“We are permitted three feet of slack in the binding,” she said. “That’s a challenge we have to solve. Either we shelter on the ground, or we learn to climb in tandem.”
“Well, then,” I said. “Can you actually block me out?”
She shrugged. It’s hard to not look at moving breasts that close, but I think I only glanced down a little. I tried to only look at her face, anyway. “I don’t know. It’s been most of a year since my last attempt. It was never worth much effort.”
“Then the worst case is, if you couldn’t, and I couldn’t bring myself to endure this test of tenacity and diplomacy you call a marriage rite, there is a very good chance that the Council would be forced to isolate you, or exile you, to enforce the order given to you?”
“Yes,” she said. “Confined to Archilavast is most likely, since that’s where my family lives. We Galantierans are the heretical Archilians compared to the rest of the world, and not entirely welcome elsewhere, so they don’t have a place to send me permanently.”
“Are you any better at the routine of the conversatory now than you were eight years ago?”
She frowned. “I... can manage to be a good mother for a year, when the baby is small enough to be carried with me. The second and third years are the difficult ones, and I’m past those with Gwen and Peri. All I need is a day or two to myself every few tendays. I’m terrible at just ignoring a tantrum, or letting them fail so they learn independence and accomplishment. I know I must not make myself invisible to my child, but it’s so bloody tempting when they won’t just go play. Both girls are easier now. They can, and mostly do, ask me before they just climb me, so they don’t startle me as often. I used to fear I’d hurt them. My mentors spent a decade teaching me to react to a threat without thinking, then insisted I have babies.” She rolled her eyes. “Gwen and Peri both understand that Mam does different work than their Dad.”
“But the confinement would still drive you mad in less time than it takes for a baby to grow up?”
“Not... mad,” she said. “Cranky. Irritable. A bad mother who can’t escape. I would cause damage to people who don’t deserve it.”
I knew what happened when she felt irritable and trapped. Neither of us slept well, which meant I got snappish, and within a few tendays, we were both miserable because we fed it to each other, even thousands of milliae apart. “We’ll need a child minder, then,” I said. “Eventually. Not for a while.”
“You’re considering this?” she asked.
I nodded. “Why would
n’t I?”
“Because you keep questioning me about everything — ”
“I’m allowed. I didn’t swear obedience to you.”
“You haven’t sworn anything to me,” she retorted.
“And I repeat: I’m not asking anything more than you’ve shown to other intimates. Simple honesty and negotiation.” I considered her while she glared at me. I was right, and she knew it. “How many, by the way? You’ve got my tally.”
I had a good suspicion, but she blushed, and that told me I was probably right.
“You’re infuriating,” she said.
I nodded.
“And stubborn.”
I kept nodding.
“And...” She looked away, took a deep breath, and straightened her shoulders. “Four.”
“Including me?” I asked.
“Yes.”
“And Darav.”
She nodded.
That made me certain and righteously smug. “Oi, so yes, you indeed have also been celibate for... four years. At least. Except for dreams.” Now that I knew what I should remember, I could, vaguely, recall her complex feelings about kindling Peri, and also, even more vaguely, what her sleeping mind did with her memories of the actual tumbles, and less vaguely but still distantly, some of the intensity of childbirth. There had been nothing like any of those since Peri was born. Therefore —
“It’s not the same,” she retorted.
“It is,” I said. “Who were the first two?”
“A classmate when I was fifteen, and it was mostly a waste of effort, because we were both ignorant, selfish brats.”
“I’ve heard that’s common in most adolescents,” I said. “And?”
“One of my Sardani33 peers, actually. While I was carrying Gwen, and after.”
That shocked me. “While you were pregnant? Darav — ?”
She sighed and let go of my hands. I supposed that argument was finished, but also, the practical matter of clean clothing had to be managed. She waded towards the outlet to the privy channel, where most of our clothing was swirling in the gentle current on this side of the willow screen placed specifically to catch wayward stockings. “IAll that matters to Sardanis is full acknowledgement and consent by everyone involved. Darav and I ... were never lovers. He loved Justia far more than she loved him. I was his way of replacing her. He was my way of keeping her a little alive. She and Darav had Jemi exceptionally early — she was barely fifteen, he wasn’t quite eighteen. Young, even for us Wisdomians. Her goal, all her life, was Spagna.” She gathered her laundry to her, and tromped back to the scrubbing stone. I followed, with my own in hand.