A Rose Point Holiday

by M. C. A. Hogarth

“You are best qualified to answer,” Liolesa said. “This was more lately your duty than mine.”

  Araelis waved that off, a little twitch of her hand. “It cannot be argued, and even if it could it would be a useless exercise. I take your education into my hands, then, Theresa. Priests are not permitted to receive personal gifts during this holiday.”

  “The entire holiday, or just the Vigil?” Sascha asked.

  “The season entire,” Araelis said. “It is considered….”

  “Gauche,” Hirianthial supplied.

  “Yes. One does not single out any member of the Lord or God’s clergy for special treatment…or the Lady and Goddess’s, at that, though I suppose the High Priestess is an exception.” Araelis eyed Liolesa.

  “Better to beg forgiveness than ask permission?” Sascha offered.

  Liolesa said, “The proscription is intended to prevent the cultivation of specific priests and priestesses by their lieges. I, however, am difficult to bribe, so I would not worry overmuch about me.”

  Hirianthial shook his head. “More to the point, one ordinarily cannot take vows to the Divine Mysteries and keep one’s worldly position. The Queen is the only Eldritch who has a dual identity: she is both the secular head of state and the religious head of the Church. She is truly an exception.”

  “And everyone wants to curry favor with her anyway,” Kis’eh’t said.

  “That also,” Hirianthial said.

  “Except when they don’t,” Liolesa said, with a dark look.

  Araelis cleared her throat. “As I was saying. The Lady’s role during the season is to fund her churches. You, Theresa, are obligated to send each of your local churches food and alms, including your personal chapel and clergy here at Rose Point, and also to send a tithe to the capital for the Church at large.”

  “So you get your bribe either way,” Sascha observed.

  Liolesa dandled her plush horse on her knee. “It is good to be the Queen?”

  “Except when it’s not, I’m betting,” Reese said. “So… no gifts at all? That seems harsh.”

  “One gives personal gifts to one’s priests on their natal days,” Araelis said. “But they should be modest. The vows require chastity, poverty, obedience, and humility.”

  “So we shop for Val like we shop for Bryer,” Sascha said. “We can do that.”

  “I’ll figure out his birthday. And Belinor’s, and Urise’s,” Irine said. She grinned. “I already know what I want to get Val and Belinor!”

  “I’m afraid to ask,” Reese said. “It’s probably meant to give them ideas, isn’t it.”

  Irine purred. “They can’t do anything until they have ideas!”

  “I can guess, but I don’t want to know,” Kis’eh’t murmured.

  “Good plan,” Sascha said. “Hirianthial, you’re on!”

  Reese expected these presents to be good: after all, they’d had ‘their’ Eldritch for long enough to know him, at least insofar as anyone could know an Eldritch given the Veil. She wasn’t disappointed, either. Irine’s gift was a mysterious steel clip which Hirianthial examined with evident confusion until she said, “It’s for your dangle. Now that it’s too long for your hair, I thought you’d want to loop it so that it wouldn’t be exposed.”

  “Ah!” he said. “Yes.” He offered it to her on his (bare!) palm. “If you would?”

  “Wouldn’t I!” Irine exclaimed. “Another present for me!” But she plucked it up with pinched fingers, careful not to brush his skin, and padded up behind him to consider his shortened hair. Reese missed the extravagant length of it, and betted he felt naked without it. Plus, she’d noticed the male Eldritch she saw seemed to wear the length according to their station, and as blood cousin to the Queen, Reese didn’t think you could get higher without marrying her. But there was something endearing about the bob, which at shoulder-length was longer than Val’s defiant chin-length style. It made him look younger, and she liked how it emphasized the length of his neck because that made the flare of his shoulders much more evident.

  She…was getting distracted. With his head bent for Irine’s touch, Hirianthial glanced at her with one of those new, simmering looks she still hadn’t gotten used to, and she blushed at him.

  “Here,” Irine said, not noticing—thank Freedom for small mercies—as she took the dangle up and tucked it under his hair. “I can hang the end of it in front of the ear? Behind?”

  “Behind,” Liolesa said. “The before-ear style is more typical of young, single men.”

  “A display?” Kis’eh’t asked. “Hoping to attract mates?”

  “But women have the wealth here, right?” Irine said, absently as she worked. “That’s why I have a jewelry box.”

  “That’s right,” Araelis said. “Men wear jewels there as… advertisement? I hope I can use the word that way. ‘Look how good I look wearing jewels. Would you not like to see yours here instead?’”

  “Ha!” Sascha said.

  “But then they… hide it behind their ears when they marry?” Kis’eh’t said, confused.

  “Naturally,” Araelis said. “One wouldn’t want other women to covet one’s goods, after all.”

  “There!” Irine said, stepping back.

  “Very modest,” Araelis said.

  “And no longer hanging down my back,” Hirianthial said. “Which, while a pleasing reminder, is a technical violation of the dress code for a man at war.”

  “They are not supposed to have strands longer than their hair,” Liolesa said before someone could ask. “It invites an enemy to yank.”

  Hirianthial shook his head once, testing the clip, and the prayer bell chimed softly. “Perfect. Thank you, Irine.”

  “She even hid it properly,” Liolesa said.

  “Well, if women here go around poaching other people’s men, and sharing’s not allowed,” Irine said, “I don’t want anyone getting ideas about Reese’s.”

  Reese covered her face.

  “Just keep your face in your hands, Boss,” Sascha said. “You’ll want it there when he opens mine.”

  “This should be good! Do open that one next,” Liolesa said.

  “A book,” Hirianthial guessed, unfolding the paper. Reese watched—if she was going to blush, she should at least know what she was blushing about. Was it her imagination, or was Sascha a little tense, waiting for Hirianthial’s reaction? What on the soil had he given him?

  The Eldritch merely looked at it for a long moment. “I will accept this gift on one condition.”

  “What’s that?” Sascha said, hesitant.

  Hirianthial looked up, eyes sparkling. “That we wager that there isn’t anything in it I don’t already know.”

  A heartbeat pause, and then Sascha erupted into laughter. “There’s no way!” he exclaimed.

  “I’ve lived six hundred years, Sascha….”

  “I bet you spent three hundred of them as a virgin!”

  “Oh God,” Reese said, and really did cover her face. “Don’t tell me. It’s a picture book written by Harat-Shar.”

  “It is a marital aid,” Hirianthial offered, setting Sascha off again.

  Peering at the spine, Irine added, “It’s a good one too! We had lots of fun with it!”

  Kis’eh’t waved a hand. “Enough about the book… what are the terms of the wager?”

  “And how will you discern if he’s telling the truth?” Liolesa wondered.

  “Lia! You are supposed to be on my side, do you recall.”

  “It’s a valid question,” Kis’eh’t said. “But I’m pretty sure there’s no way to prove it, so we’ll just have to go on his word.”

  “We shall have to bet something substantive,” Hirianthial said. “What shall you give me if you lose, Sascha?”

  “A week of abstinence?” Kis’eh’t mused.

  “Hey!” Irine exclaimed. “Don’t punish me and Narain! We had nothing to do with this!”

  “I don’t know!” Sascha said. “What do you want?” Seeing the look in Hiri
anthial’s eye, “Oh, hells, what did I just do.”

  “Then if it is my choice…you will learn to ride a horse.”

  “I already can ride a horse!”

  “You can sit on a horse,” Hirianthial said, mouth twitching. “That is not riding.”

  “Can it be a solidigraphic horse at least? No? Battlehells.” Sascha pressed his palm to his forehead. “Fine. If I lose, I’ll learn to ride a real horse. What if you lose?”

  “It’s got to be good,” Kis’eh’t said. “Since learning a new skill is a serious commitment. Particularly a useless one.”

  “I beg your pardon!” Hirianthial said, laughing. “Riding is a very useful skill here!”

  “Not for much longer, once we get the Pads down and real shuttles,” the Glaseah answered.

  “Kis’eh’t is in the right,” Liolesa said. “You must make a sacrifice for this one, Hiran. It’s only fair, given the gift.”

  “Very well,” Hirianthial said. “Then, with my Lady’s permission, if you win, you and Irine may bathe me.”

  He looked very pleased with himself, as well he should, given that even Bryer joined the laughter for that one. It was the look on the twins’ faces: half avarice, half shock, like someone holding a winning lottery ticket. And then Sascha’s face fell and he scowled. “This means you’re completely sure you’re going to win, doesn’t it.”

  “Six hundred years, Sascha.”

  “Almost seven hundred,” Araelis said.

  “But half the pictures in that book are kinky! Or involve tails!” Irine exclaimed.

  Hirianthial had his hand spread over his mouth and chin and an impish look in his eyes. “Medical school rotations. Acute care.”

  “Oh hells.” Sascha sighed. “And the saddest part is that those poor bastards probably did them all wrong.”

  “If they wound up in the hospital, yes!” Irine folded her arms.

  “Now you know why it’s dangerous to assume things,” Kis’eh’t said. “Never bet on a hypothesis when you can bet on a theory.”

  “Oh, look at their ears,” Liolesa said. “You must give him a consolation prize, cousin. Why not show him an Eldritch version of their book?”

  “You have pornography?” Irine squeaked.

  “We do reproduce,” Araelis said, folding her arms over her belly.

  “Yes, but… I figured… you would just… pick a position, sanctify it, and then tell everyone who’s doing anything else they’re wrong?”

  Liolesa threw the plush at her. As Irine ducked with a squeak, the Queen said, “These toys are quite useful! I feel better already! Shall I get the goo?”

  “No, no!” Irine giggled. “No, I’ll never get any of it out of my fur!”

  Ignoring them with what Reese thought was saintly patience, Hirianthial had gone back to unwrapping. “Here I have another book, from Kis’eh’t?” He paged through it, intrigued. “This is… a book of stories?”

  “The Glaseah also have mind mages, which we call dva’htiht,” Kis’eh’t said. “Among us, they are considered saints and legends, and their gifts are reminders of the Goddess’s infinite power and generosity. That book is about the first cohort of dva’htiht; there were six among the first generation of natural-born Glaseah, and they had many adventures which have been much embroidered in the years since their birth.”

  “Glaseah have mind mages?” Araelis said, astonished.

  “Glaseah revere mind mages,” Kis’eh’t said. “And tell stories about them to children, and write musicals about them, and most of all, train them and give them the tools they need to thrive, which includes support from their society.”

  “Ouch!” Sascha said. “Not sure if this is a gift to Hirianthial or a smack on the hind end for the natives, arii.”

  “No,” Hirianthial said. “Perspective is always a welcome gift. This is treasure, Kis’eh’t. I thank you.”

  Bryer’s gift was addressed to both Hirianthial and Reese, but she let him open it because it was fun to watch him. He shared Liolesa’s precision with the paper, but Liolesa went through her gifts’ seams like a surgeon with a scalpel while Hirianthial was a little less… well, ruthless was the word that came to mind, and it made her grin. But the gift itself stole her breath away, because it was a long parchment stretched between two rods, inscribed with a single piece of calligraphy, and she recognized it after hours of reading about the Phoenix. Reaching for the bottommost rod, she said, “Oh, Bryer!”

  “That’s beautiful,” Irine said, eyes wide. “What is it?”

  “Gift for leaders of a flight,” Bryer said. “To be displayed. Indicates this is a safe haven place.” He eyed Reese. “Must be lived up to, but think that will not be a problem.”

  “No,” Hirianthial said. “I think Lady Eddings was living up to that even when she was Captain Eddings.” He rolled it closed. “But we will hang it in the great hall, so that all who come may see it.”

  “Now we’re down to Reese’s gift and Liolesa’s,” Irine said. “This should be good!”

  “Mine first,” Reese said. “Because Freedom knows what your cousin’s gotten you.”

  “Yours first, then.”

  As he took the small box, Liolesa said, “Shake it, cousin!”

  “Liolesa!” Araelis said, exasperated.

  “I shall not,” Hirianthial said. “As I suspect it is small and will rattle.”

  “It’s small, at least,” Reese agreed.

  He unfolded it to bring out the box, which was, in fact, a gift box for jewelry. But she hadn’t put a gem in it, but….

  “Oh…,” Hirianthial said, reverent. “My Courage.”

  Blushing, Reese said, “You’re still using the generic one it came with. Soly told me they’re supposed to be switched out for a personal one, so…”

  Hirianthial held out the disc-shaped pommel for the rest of the gathering to see. Reese had gotten the design specifications for it from Solysyrril, then sent away for the design: on one side, Laisrathera’s new star on peach, and on the other, the Royal House’s unicorn on blue. Because he belonged to them both… the Eldritch Lord of War, and Laisrathera’s future sword-bearer.

  “That really is perfect,” Sascha said, satisfied.

  “As long as it fits?” Kis’eh’t said.

  Hirianthial had already taken the hilt from his scabbard and was twisting off the plain ball on the end of the sword Fleet had found him on the battlecruiser. The new one did fit, perfectly.

  “Oh, that is well done,” Araelis said.

  “You see,” Liolesa said to Irine, “We do share, sometimes.”

  “Since I’m pretty sure any enemy of Reese’s is going to flatten her on the way to you, I don’t think that counts as sharing,” Irine said. “That’s more of a mutual defense pact.”

  “She’s stealing your lines,” Kis’eh’t observed to Sascha.

  “She’s my twin. Everything I have is hers anyway.”

  Irine rested her cheek on her brother’s shoulder. “The Queen’s gift is left?”

  “Another small box,” Hirianthial said. “But not an envelope, so perhaps I have been saved.”

  “The envelopes are far more dangerous, I admit,” Liolesa said.

  Araelis looked at her only gift, which was another of those envelopes. “I tremble in my chair.”

  “You probably should,” Hirianthial said, and opened the last box to reveal a red loop—string? Wire? She couldn’t tell from where she was sitting, but the sight of it brought the stillness back into her fiancé’s shoulders.

  “It was not ready in time.” Liolesa sounded apologetic. “But you needed one of your own.” She smiled. “You can’t have mine, after all. I rarely play, but I must at least maintain the pretense of having some domestic accomplishments.”

  “A guitar string?” Sascha guessed.

  “Too long,” Bryer said. “Harp, maybe.”

  “A pedal harp, yes,” Hirianthial said, tucking the string back in the box. “Thank you, cousin. I will be glad to have one a
gain.”

  “You play harp!” Irine said, wide-eyed.

  “And lute,” Araelis said.

  “Though never as well.” Hirianthial smiled. “A home should have a musical instrument. I look forward to it.”

  “As do I,” Liolesa said. “And now we come to our hostess. Go on, Theresa. You have certainly earned your furbelows this year.”

  “My what?” Reese said.

  “Ruffles,” Araelis said. “Frills. Things you add to clothes to make them pretty?”

  “And more expensive,” Liolesa added, amused.

  Reese shook her head and went to her stack. Even lightened by Bryer’s joint gift of the calligraphy scroll and Kis’eh’t’s of the patents, she still felt like she had a pile of treasure, probably because one of the boxes was almost as long as she was. But there was an envelope, and as she eyed it warily, Irine said, “That one’s from us.”

  “Does that mean it’s safe?” Liolesa asked.

  Thinking of the flat package Kis’eh’t’s patents had come in, Reese said, “I’m not too sure about that.” But she lifted it onto her lap anyway and opened it to the creamy tint of parchment paper. Before she could pull it out, Sascha leaned over and rested a hand on her wrist.

  “Before you look, maybe we should explain,” he said, golden eyes serious. “You know you haven’t been paying us a steady salary, right?”

  “Right,” Reese said, rueful. Figuring out payroll had been on her list of things to do, but admittedly it had fallen by the wayside, and no one had reminded her. Why would they? They had food, clothes, a place to sleep, and dozens of Tam-illee and Fleet people running around with their powerplants, tool boxes, and genies synthesizing or building whatever anyone asked for. There was no doubt the crew would need money of their own, eventually, but there was no pressing need yet. And since being in a position not to worry about the basics had been rare on the ship, well... maybe they’d all forgotten about it? Or maybe she had, and her crew had been humoring her... again...

  “No, no, stop that with your face.” Sascha shook her wrist. “It’s not a problem right now.”

  “Except we knew what we wanted to get you, and it did cost more fin than we had saved up,” Irine said. “So we borrowed it! An advance against our future salaries.”