A Rose Point Holiday

by M. C. A. Hogarth

  “That was most beautiful,” Araelis said, voice clear despite her wet lashes. “Thank you, Theresa.”

  “And appropriate,” Liolesa said. “Well done, Lady.”

  Hirianthial reached for her hand and curled her fingers into his, resting his other hand over hers. She relaxed completely. “So… is it time for food or presents?”

  “Now we have both,” Liolesa said, satisfied.

  “Good, ‘cause I’m hungry!” Sascha exclaimed. “I hope you left pie for us!”

  “There are other things, too—” Reese began.

  “Pie,” Bryer interrupted. “Only pie.”

  Kis’eh’t preened. “It’s a good thing I made two.”

  CHAPTER 4

  It had not occurred to Reese while indulging herself in her first real shopping spree that what she was doing implied reciprocity until the presents in front of her chair started accumulating. Of course other people had gotten her things. Everyone was getting everyone things. But this evidence that people cared about her and wanted to demonstrate it was overwhelming. She stared at Irine and Araelis, who’d been pressed into service distributing the hoard, and tried not to visibly shake despite the racing of her heart.

  The light touch on her wrist distracted her. When she found the courage to look up, she found Hirianthial’s calm gaze on hers. Very soft, he murmured, “It’s well, my lady.”

  After that, it was still frightening, but she could handle it. Especially since he left his hand on her wrist, petting, just the faintest of movements against her skin.

  “One for Kis’eh’t, one for the Queen—wow, that’s a big one—what else?”

  “A strange custom, putting the gifts in front of the person they’re intended for,” Araelis said, looking with puzzlement at the silver bag. “Almost as strange as each of them being wrapped in different colors.”

  “Oh? How do you do it?” Irine asked, curious.

  “We don’t put all the gifts together this way,” Araelis said. “They stay with the person who gives them, and the giver hand them out one at a time, to be opened.” She glanced at the bag before setting it in front of Bryer. “And all our gifts are wrapped in the same color. One color per person.”

  “Who assigns the colors?” Kis’eh’t asked. “How do you know who has which color? Do you agree beforehand? What about new people?”

  “I… I don’t know,” Araelis admitted. “I never wondered. But here we have the last of them and….” She trailed off and frowned. “Liolesa. I am the Stranger!”

  “You are no stranger to me,” Liolesa said. “And I knew you would be coming, so I couldn’t resist. As you yourself said…”

  Araelis sighed. “You and gifts, yes. But you will make your new outworld family feel guilt for not having anything to give me.”

  “They have given you their hospitality,” Liolesa said. “I have given you nothing but exasperation for several weeks. Indulge me, if you will.”

  “I suppose I must. But I refuse to open this first. I want to see what presents one gives a Harat-Shar.”

  “That’s our cue,” Irine said to Sascha, who chuckled and reached for the nearest box.

  The answer to Araelis’s question revealed a lot more about the gift-givers than about Harat-Shar. But Reese was relieved that the present she’d picked for them caused them both to lean closer to the box, studying its contents with furrowed brows… and then to break into peals of laughter.

  “What is it?” Kis’eh’t asked, mantling her wings.

  “You bought us a heated blanket!” Sascha exclaimed between whoops.

  “I’m not planning to keep the castle any warmer than I did the ship,” Reese said. “Especially given how high the ceilings are. And, you know. The one place you want to keep warm is probably the bed. For a lot of reasons.”

  “For a lot of reasons!” Irine said with a giggle.

  “Being about to get married has been good for you, Boss,” Sascha said, grinning. “Once you’re actually married, you might give up blushing completely.”

  “I doubt it,” Reese muttered, but she was smiling too.

  Bryer gave them feathers, which Reese’s reading had revealed to be a significant offering; only good friends received feathers, particularly those long enough to be used to decorate one’s aerie, rather than one’s person. They were beautiful to boot, and the twins weren’t the only one who exclaimed over their metallic sheen and the rainbow colors that seemed to refract near the rachis. Kis’eh’t’s gift of cinnamon oil, she had declined to explain, but the twins grinned at one another and then waggled their brows at her, which the Glaseah suffered with amusement and a benign expression.

  Hirianthial’s gift to Irine came wrapped in burgundy paper, and Reese bent closer to watch her bring forth a cloisonné jewelry box. “This is beautiful!” Irine said, golden eyes wide. “But… I don’t wear much jewelry.”

  “Yet,” Liolesa observed. At the tigraine’s startled look, the Queen said, “Oh, but you are Laisrathera’s second most prominent woman, Irine-alet. Did you not realize? A minor noblewoman, we would say. And a noblewoman has gemstones. They are a symbol of her wealth and authority.”

  “I don’t have any wealth,” Irine protested.

  “Yet,” Liolesa said.

  Irine’s face was reflecting the same sort of shock, panic, and confusion that Reese imagined her face often did when confronted with the way the Eldritch kept changing her life. She could sympathize. She also was just a little bit glad she wasn’t the only one dealing with it anymore. Maybe she could offer the practical advice this time? Reese hid a grin. That would be the day!

  Sascha shook his head. “Guess we’ll see what comes to us,” he said. “Here’s mine from Hirianthial, and I’m guessing it’s not a jewelry box.” He unwrapped the gift carefully—unlike his twin, he was one of those people who didn’t tear wrapping paper, and the Eldritch custom of securing the paper with intricate folds rather than tape or glue lent itself to his more deliberate approach. That revealed a wooden box. “Or maybe I’m wrong?”

  Reese couldn’t see what was in the box when he opened it, but she could see his shoulders tense, his ears sag, and his eyes widen. He was so still she wondered if he’d picked up some of Hirianthial’s body language... or maybe that was all his, because there was more reverence in it than shock.

  Raising golden eyes, Sascha said, “This is what I think it is.”

  Quietly, Hirianthial said, “It is, yes.”

  Sascha bit his lower lip. “Then…” He looked up at Reese, let out a huffed breath and shook his head. “Then I’m glad as all hells the two of you figured things out, because I wouldn’t want to have to choose. And I won’t have to.” He lifted a dagger in a sheath of leather and ivory from the box and Bryer hissed approval. Glancing at him, Sascha said, “Yeah? You think I’m ready.”

  “Know you are,” Bryer said.

  “What is this?” Kis’eh’t asked, curious. “Some invitation to a fealty ceremony, I’m guessing?”

  Irine rested her hand on her brother’s shoulder, her own face resigned. “You want to be Hirianthial’s bodyguard.”

  “He doesn’t need a bodyguard,” Sascha said. “He can take care of himself in a fight pretty damned well.”

  “But the Lord of War does need an aide,” Hirianthial said, “And a shield-brother who has proven himself in combat would make a very good one.”

  “I like it,” Reese said, before Sascha could dither about it. “He needs a Harat-Shar of his own and I’ve got Irine.”

  Sascha laughed at that. “If you’re sure, Boss.”

  “What’s there to be sure about?” Reese said, holding his eyes so he could see her sincerity. “As you said, we really have worked things out. There’s no either-or here, arii. You work for him, you’re still part of my team.”

  “Team Earthrise,” Irine said, pleased.

  “It’s what Laisrathera means,” Reese said with a nod.

  “Then, with all that settled…” Sascha lifted h
is chin, his hands tight on the dagger as he met Hirianthial’s gaze across the rug. “I’m your man, arii. And I’m honored you’ll have me.”

  That was good. Very good. Reese didn’t think anyone could top that present, especially since the only one left was an envelope on the floor. Irine picked it up, glancing at the outside. “This one’s from the Queen.” She grinned at Liolesa. “Probably something crazy, right?” She pulled the flap up and slid the paper out of it, and Sascha leaned over her to read. They glanced at one another, then both jerked their heads up to stare at Liolesa with nearly identical expressions of skepticism tempered with awe.

  “How do you know?” Irine exclaimed.

  “How do you know everything?” Sascha finished.

  Liolesa folded her fingers together over her ribcage, the picture of studied innocence. “I am very good at guessing.”

  As the twins started laughing, Kis’eh’t said, “Oh, put us out of our misery already! What is it?”

  Reese plucked the paper from Irine’s hand and skimmed it. “It’s… a notification from Fleet that they’re detaching Soly’s hold here for a term of ‘at least one year’, possibly more if the situation warrants….” She trailed off, squinted at the twins, then glanced at Hirianthial.

  Said he only, eyes warm with merriment, “Narain.”

  “Oh!” Reese said. Then more speculative: “Oh? Really?”

  “I like him,” Sascha said.

  “He really likes him,” Irine said with a last gasping giggle. “I do too.”

  “Fleet’s good people.”

  “Steady income.” Irine looked up at the ceiling. “Stable personalities. Good marriage material.”

  “Good in bed,” Sascha muttered.

  “Harat-Shar?” Kis’eh’t offered, deadpan.

  “Okay, true, comes with the package.”

  More laughter. Even Araelis smiled.

  Reese shook her head as the twins scraped up all the discarded paper and tidied up the rug, setting a bow on Allacazam. To Liolesa, she said, “Your gifts are scary.”

  “I prefer to think of them as… carefully targeted.”

  Reese choked on her laugh. Liolesa’s smile had a decidedly mischievous air.

  “Who’s next?” Irine asked. “I am voting for Kis’eh’t.”

  “I should have more pie!” Sascha said. “Speaking of. Anyone want anything? Refills? Go, Kis’eh’t, let’s see what everyone got you.”

  Kis’eh’t looked at the stack in front of her and wiggled the toes of her forepaws. “At the rate we’re eating, these had better be seeds for apple cultivars.”

  Like the twins, Kis’eh’t had received a feather from Bryer. Irine gave her a jar that puzzled the Glaseah even after the explanation that it was claw conditioner: “Why do claws need conditioning?” But Irine was adamant (“Because yours are getting brittle. And yes, I look!”). Sascha had inspired her to laugh by giving her a geode. “A book-end for your office. When you finally stop being everywhere at once and choose one.”

  “I have been busy,” Kis’eh’t demurred, and opened the tin that contained Hirianthial’s offering. Peering into it with an expression even more baffled than the one she’d used on the claw conditioner, she said, “These are beautiful.” For the gathering, she held up a little ceramic crow, then displayed the tin where three others nestled in cushioned slots. Each was painted to resemble a unique bird: sparrow, bluebird, robin, cardinal. “But… what are they for? There are a lot of them. Are they for a game?”

  “I’m afraid it’s something of a jest,” Hirianthial said. “They’re pie birds. For venting steam from the filling.”

  Kis’eh’t’s ears fanned out. “Trust the Eldritch to come up with an ornate and hand-made solution to something that could be solved by a fork and a few poked holes.” She considered the crow, then smiled and shook her head. “These are almost too pretty to bake with. But a tool made for a purpose should never be relegated to decoration when it can fulfill that purpose, so. I will use it.” She sighed, chuckled a little. “A little link to the past, in more ways than one.”

  “We ate a lot of good desserts on the ship,” Reese said, quiet.

  “Good memories,” Sascha agreed.

  “We also love your pie because it’s good, though!” Irine assured the Glaseah hastily.

  Kis’eh’t laughed. “Well, I like feeding you all. It’s a Goddess thing.”

  “Food comes from the Lady,” Araelis said, and it had the weight of ritual. When they all looked toward the Eldritch, Liolesa nodded, a tip of her chin.

  “I can’t disagree,” Kis’eh’t said, after a pause. She tucked the birds back into their cushioned tin and took up Reese’s box. “All right, Reese. Should I be worried?”

  “Maybe?” Reese said, sheepish.

  Kis’eh’t chuckled and plucked the ribbon loose. “And what is this…? Ah!” She laughed. “An apron to go with the birds!”

  “An apron?” Irine asked, and giggled when the Glaseah turned it to show off the legend on the breast: ‘Kitchen Goddess.’

  “Very appropriate,” Kis’eh’t said. “But what’s this in the pocket? Did you leave the washing instructions in it?” She pulled out the envelope that Reese had vacillated so long over including, and as the Glaseah opened it, Reese found she was biting her lip. When Kis’eh’t didn’t say anything immediately, she said, “You really haven’t picked out an office…”

  “This isn’t an office,” Kis’eh’t said, low. “This is an invoice for a fully-outfitted laboratory.”

  “I… got it right? I hope?” Reese asked. “I asked for a lot of people’s help. Between Taylor and Hirianthial and a couple of the Fleet people, we figured out the sort of stuff someone who does inorganic chemistry needs.”

  Kis’eh’t’s eyes flicked up to hers. “You remembered.”

  How could she forget? The Glaseah’s distress and frustration at the tiny chemical analyzer on the Earthrise, complaining that organic chemistry wasn’t her specialty while they struggled to discover the reason the drug barons had sent them to harvest the crystal people. “I try to pay attention.”

  Kis’eh’t’s thumb chafed the back of the invoice. “Maybe you should open your gift to me now.”

  “Out of order?” Irine said.

  But Reese was already digging through her stack until she found the flat package marked with Kis’eh’t’s name. Were her hands trembling? Something about how serious the Glaseah was… no, not just serious. There was something in Kis’eh’t’s face she’d never seen before. Like someone standing at a precipice. Peeling the paper back, Reese found herself with a folder, and in the folder… very official copies of… “Patents?” She paged through them, and now she really was shaking. “Kis’eh’t… these… these are….”

  “Patents, yes,” Kis’eh’t said. She had folded her hands in her lap, forepaws pressed against one another until the clawtips shone against the fur. “You said Laisrathera needed money, and I have a little to give.”

  “A little!” Reese exclaimed, stunned at the final sheet listing the bidders requesting the rights to develop those patents. “Kis’eh’t… Blood and freedom… this is… you’re rich!”

  Kis’eh’t grimaced. “No, Reese. I earn a modest income off the royalties of my old articles. But I’m only rich if I do something with those patents, and doing something with them requires… a lab, with people in it. Along with a lot of other things. Travel. Administration and overhead. Accountants. I never bothered because I didn’t have the expertise to set up those things, and I wasn’t willing to go back to academia.”

  “That means it is now time for my gift,” Liolesa said. “Please, alet. Open your final present.”

  The Glaseah glanced at her, then looked at the envelope. Reese could understand her trepidation, given how similar it looked to the envelope that had stunned the twins. But she desperately wanted to know what was in it, because it would give her something to focus on that wasn’t the fact that one of her crewmembers had just handed he
r the rights to several apparently very valuable pieces of intellectual property.

  Liolesa’s gift gave her ample opportunity to focus on something else, because reading it made Kis’eh’t’s shoulders crumple. As they all stared, startled, their most practical, unflappable crewmember pressed her face into her hands... and started crying.

  The only reason Irine got to the Glaseah first was that the Harat-Shar didn’t have to vault a tower of presents to reach her.

  “What is it!” Irine exclaimed, fretful, tucking some of Kis’eh’t’s forelock back from her brow. “Is it bad?”

  “No!” Kis’eh’t said, mopping at her streaming eyes. “But Goddess… alet…”

  “Are you going to ask me how I knew?” Liolesa said. “You of all people?”

  “No.” That pulled a watery chuckle out of Kis’eh’t. “You did research. Of course. And if you do the research, it’s all there to be seen.”

  “So are you gonna tell us what’s going on?” Sascha asked, tail twitching.

  “It seems so petty now, thinking about it,” Kis’eh’t said, almost to herself. She sighed and straightened, but didn’t seem to mind Irine’s arms around her waist and Reese’s around her shoulder, so both of them stayed. “I would have had a very good career in materials research, but the grant that was going to propel me to that point was conditional on my foremost research assistant being fired. Because he was human, and the grant-giving entity didn’t want any humans involved in or benefiting from the research.”

  “That happens off-world?” Araelis asked, surprised. “I thought xenophobia was the province of Eldritch. Or perhaps humans?”

  “Oh, no. We Pelted do it too.” Kis’eh’t sighed. “They fired Abraham, without so much as giving me a warning… and demanded that I strip his name from my research papers. I refused. I left.”

  “She does not say,” Liolesa added, quiet, “that she was courted by military, university, and corporation alike. There are discussions of her work that involve words like ‘genius.’”

  Kis’eh’t shrugged her shoulders once, dismissing the accolade. “I won’t work for bigots. The evidence of the Goddess’s mind is Her gift to us. It belongs to all of us, not just a select few.”