by Cari Z.
“Also, your human mother wishes to see both of you on a regular basis. She will be a frequent guest in my house. Additionally, you will spend one hour of every day with me, Jason.” Grenn smiled slightly. “So that we may discuss your acclimation, and address any problems or concerns you may have.”
“Good.” Despite intending to make every effort to “acclimate,” Jason knew there were going to be things that bothered him, things he wanted to argue over, and he already knew that the person to do that with was Grenn. She was the only one with the power to change anything.
“This program starts tomorrow,” Grenn said. She stood up and held out her hands. “Tonight, your family wants to greet you. They are assembled in the audience chamber in my house.” She tilted her head slightly. “It would be improper for my sons not to escort me.”
Each of them took one of her proffered hands, and they went back into the main hall, heading through the biggest door at the very end of it. Beyond that was a small, private tunnel, and at the end of that tunnel was a door that opened onto a platform with several chairs and a small, intricately carved table on it. In front of the platform was the largest group of Perels Jason had ever seen assembled in one place before.
All of them wore green in one form or another, and they packed the large room from wall to wall, with only standing room except for perhaps a dozen chairs spaced carefully through the chamber. A female sat in each. Everyone else—and there had to be over a hundred Perels—was male, and their eyes were utterly rapt.
Jason remembered Giselle telling him that fewer than fifty male Perels left their planet every year to tour the universe, which meant he was probably the first alien that most of the House of Grenn had ever seen in person.
Grenn pulled them over to flank her chair before releasing their hands and sitting down. She looked out at the teeming crowd and smiled.
“Children,” she announced, slowly enough that Jason’s translator could keep up. “Today is a great day for the House of Grenn. My son Ferran is home, and he has brought with him a rare and special consort. This,” she pointed over her shoulder at Jason, “is Jason Kim Howards Grenn.” She said it extra slowly, enunciating each growling syllable, and Jason could see the younger ones in the crowd saying it silently with her, trying it out in their mouths. “Today their union has been validated by the Council.
“Jason is my son, and I want you to welcome him like a brother. Be kind to him, be patient with him, help him learn how to live this new life. It is the fate of almost all sons to become consorts, and the transition can be hard. Help him, but respect the privacy of my sons’ den. Do you understand?”
A thrumming sound, something between a buzz and a hum, resonated through the crowd. Jason assumed it meant yes. It had to be good, because Ferran looked happy, and a moment later, Grenn clapped her hands and the solemn mood was broken. Then the Perels mobbed the stage.
Jason lost track of both Ferran and Grenn as he was pulled into the crowd and passed gently from group to group like he was a precious, fragile pet. Hands stroked his short black hair with awe, and little fingers rubbed at his darker skin curiously, as though they might rub the color off. No one spoke anything but Perel, and it was all so rapid and jumbled that Jason couldn’t make out anything.
He let himself be guided—saying nothing, but trying to get a handle on faces as they were presented to him. All of the males were uniformly white, while the females all had quills tipped with dark brown. Ferran was the only exception Jason saw to the rule. He’d have to remember to ask his husband about it.
Eventually, Ferran found Jason and detached him from the group of people surrounding him, making apologies for stealing him away. The children—pups, Jason remembered, that was the usual term for them here—whined a little, but Ferran was implacable. A few minutes later, the two of them escaped back into the tunnel, and by the time they were back at Ferran’s den, fresh food was waiting for them on the kitchen table.
“They knew we hadn’t eaten,” Ferran explained when he saw Jason’s surprise.
“How did they get in here?”
“Oh, none of the doors are locked,” Ferran replied. “That would be very rude. It was probably Ney or Garr who left the food for us, and they won’t make a habit of entering our home without permission.”
“So anyone can come in here at any time?” Jason asked, not liking the sound of that.
“Only if they’re already in my mother’s house. But they won’t,” Ferran assured him. “I promise that they won’t. We are respectful of each other’s dens.”
“Except for Grenn.”
Ferran flushed slightly. “My mother is accustomed to going wherever she pleases. It will take some time for her to understand otherwise, perhaps, but we cannot bar our den to her. It would be unprecedented.”
Jason was a moment away from quipping that that was a precedent that the two of them would benefit from, but he saw that Ferran was genuinely distressed by the idea, so he swallowed the comment and said instead, “You two are very close, aren’t you?”
“She is my mother,” Ferran said with a hint of reverence in his voice. “She gave me life. She has always been good to me, letting me learn and travel and…. She let me have you, Jason. I never wanted anything more than I wanted to be with you, and she understood. It was a very difficult decision for the Council, and I will never be able to repay the effort she went to just to make me happy.”
Oh, sweetheart. Jason’s mind was spinning with things that Grenn was getting out of this arrangement beyond making her only living son happy, but he couldn’t tell Ferran any of that. He pulled Ferran close and kissed his forehead, the tip of his nose, and his lips. “I’m glad to be here.”
“Good,” Ferran sighed. “My family is so happy to have you. Everyone wants to learn from you, and they’ll help you adapt to our world. You are a treasure, a beloved.”
“Those sound like titles I haven’t earned yet.”
“You will,” Ferran told him, and there was complete confidence in his voice. It was more than a little humbling, the depth of trust that his husband had in Jason.
“Come on,” Jason said, sidestepping the topic. “Let’s eat.”
Chapter Six
JASON’S BELONGINGS arrived during the night and were left for him in the living room by someone. Jason didn’t know who. The idea that the entire House of Grenn had access to his personal quarters was uncomfortable, but it didn’t seem to bother Ferran at all, and Jason figured he’d get used to it.
He found a new outfit, similar to the silk one he’d worn on his first day but in dark blue, and pulled it on. Dirty clothes…. He had no idea what to do with them. He didn’t know how to use the kitchen—Ferran had had to show him how to get the water running. Jason felt like a five-year-old. There were no buttons, no computer interfaces for him to program any of the devices with. The water was controlled with pressure valves that required tying off, of all things, and the electricity had to be sparked into the stove with a small striker set in its top.
Jason had been hoping for a few hours to spend alone with Ferran, to get a handle on their den—he hadn’t even been in the studio yet, and he was curious to see some of Ferran’s art—but Neyarr and Garrell were there first thing in the morning to pull them out of their quiet and throw them into the social scene. They went to eat in Grenn’s den with their family, which consisted of dozens of other Perels, mostly children. Jason and Ferran were inevitably pulled apart, and Jason had to be very kind but very clear when he explained to a small pup that, while it was a nice thought, Jason didn’t need to be fed by hand.
The child just looked confused at first. That was the problem with translation implants; they changed what you heard, but they couldn’t change what you said. Instead of speaking, Jason tried to mime what he meant, and clearly something about the way he was doing it was hilarious, because all of the children laughed. But he managed to get his point across, because a moment later, the pup patted his shoulder and handed h
im a hard roll covered with purple seeds.
“Thank you.”
“Fanku.”
“Thank… you.”
“Tank… oo.”
“Good job,” Jason congratulated the pup and patted him on the shoulder in return, which made him blush and drop his big dark eyes toward the floor.
“I’m Jason.” He tapped himself on the chest.
“Jason Kim Howards Grenn,” another kid said from a little way down the table. He was an older one, nearly adult. His face was a little wider than the others around him and his expression a little more open. “I know how to say your name.” His chest puffed up a little. “I speak like you.”
“You do, very well,” Jason said. “Who taught you?”
“Matriarch Jlinn,” he said, inclining his head a little in respect. “She lived in space for many years, and she speaks every language. She teaches us eldest. I will leave to go off-planet next year, and when I go traveling, I will speak every language, and all the aliens will like me, and I will get to bring one home too, like Ferran did with you.”
“I hope you do make friends on your trip,” Jason replied noncommittally. “What’s your name?”
“Corran. Ney and Garr are my older brothers. They did not get to bring an alien back, but they are going to be married soon, and we will all celebrate them!”
“That will be fun,” Jason agreed. “And who is this?” He indicated the pup who had tried to feed him.
“Grennson. He is a….” Corran visibly wracked his brain for a moment, his pointed nose wrinkling a little in concentration. “Ward. A ward, I think. His mother’s house was at the edge of the city, and there has been trouble at the edges of the city. The matriarch and her daughter were lost, and most of her sons. Those who remained were made wards of the Council, and he was renamed Grennson.”
“Oh.” Jason wanted to ask more about the trouble at the edge of the city, but it probably wasn’t the thing to discuss with a group of children over breakfast, even if most of them couldn’t understand the conversation. “Teach me how to say thank you.”
Corran nodded and then purred a word that sounded like most of the other words Jason had heard, the r’s rolled in a way that he knew would give him trouble. He tried it, and everyone began to laugh again.
“No, you just said flower,” Corran said, his face stretched in a grin. “Try again.”
He tried again, and it still wasn’t right. Grennson tried to tell him how to do it, and Corran kept at it. After a minute, all of the children at his table were purring thank you, and Jason was doing his best to replicate it.
A gong suddenly sounded, and abruptly, all of the children stopped chatting and sat completely still, their eyes fixed on the entryway. Grenn came through a moment later, trailing a dark blue robe across the spongy floor, her face serene. “Are you all finished?”
“Yes, Matriarch.” Everyone said the words in sync, slowly enough to easily understand.
“Then you should go to your classes.”
In moments, the dining room emptied of almost everyone. Some of the older children stayed, and Neyarr, Garrell, and Ferran were still there. Ferran made his way back to Jason’s side. “Was breakfast all right?”
“I hardly ate anything,” Jason said honestly. “I was too busy talking to the children.”
Ferran looked both pleased and concerned. “You need to eat.”
“I’ll take something with me,” Jason told him.
“Food will be provided wherever you are,” Grenn interjected. “My sons do not go hungry. And right now, I have need of Jason. Ferran, you have an appointment with Ambassador Howards in the Council House in an hour.”
“I need a way to get in touch with Ferran,” Jason said. The Perels stilled and looked at him. “In case of emergency.”
“What emergency could befall you in my own house?” Grenn asked, clearly meaning it to be rhetorical. Jason didn’t take it that way.
“The emergency might happen to him. I need a way to contact him if that occurs.”
“Jason….” Ferran whispered uncertainly.
“This is important, Ferran.” Jason locked eyes with Grenn and stared, not rudely but with calm determination.
“I will procure something for you,” she said at last. “We can discuss it in our meeting, before you and I are due at the Council House.”
Wonderful. Their first private meeting, and Jason had ensured that it was going to get off to a controversial start. “Thank you.”
“Come.” She turned and walked away. Jason paused long enough to kiss his husband, easing the worry on Ferran’s face, before leaving to follow the matriarch.
Every wall was decorated—some of them painted, others laid out in mosaics. Jason was distracted enough by the beauty of it that he managed to maintain his calm fairly well, all things considered. When they turned into what looked to be Grenn’s private audience chamber, his worry flared up, but he took a deep breath and sat down in a chair that looked like it was growing straight out of the floor.
Grenn sat across from him, and they looked at each other for a long moment. “My son worries that you will offend me,” she said at last. “He fears you will offend me so badly that I will insist you leave. The prospect of discord between the two of us is his most pressing concern.”
“How likely is that to be a problem?” Jason asked bluntly.
“Very unlikely” came the immediate response. Grenn smiled at Jason’s surprise. “I would no more anticipate that you behave like a perfect son than I would expect Ferran to change for you. He loves you, but he is also proud of his heritage. If Ferran hadn’t found you on his travels, he would have returned home obedient and ready to follow my will.” Her smile changed to a frown. “I do wish he had found someone with different skills, however. Howards tells me you are a warrior in all things, and that I cannot ask you to be otherwise for the sake of policy.”
“How are my abilities a matter of policy?”
“One of the caveats to your marriage was that you teach our people, you recall. The moderates insisted upon it. But you cannot teach them what you do not know, and what you know is steeped in humanity’s history of violence.”
“I can instruct in the martial arts without teaching my students how to fight each other,” Jason said. “Even though self-defense really is the point.”
“And that is just my point. A son’s defense is the purview of his mother, and a consort’s defense is the responsibility of his wife. All pups learn Perel ways of protecting themselves, but those are intended to be a last resort.” Grenn steepled her fingers just below the collar of her gown, assuming what looked like a lecturing pose. “Our males used to be creatures of incredible violence. Every problem between families was solved with a duel, and many duels left both the participants dead. Eventually, so many had been killed that the only way to achieve vengeance was through larger, more impersonal attacks.
“That led to the near annihilation of our species, Jason. Very few remain, as compared to the vastness of our former empire. We, the matriarchs, are the only ones who held back the final end, and we continue to lead and provide for our people in what we feel is the most beneficial way.” She paused and then added, “I feel that you wonder about what I mean by beneficial, given the disagreements over your validation yesterday.”
“How deep into me can you read?” Jason asked, not wanting to get too heavily into Perelan’s internal politics yet.
“Deep.” Her thin lips curved up faintly. “I feel your need for control, and how it frustrates you to have so little here. I feel the depth of your love for my son, and that is a good feeling for me to verify. I feel that you are worried about your future, and that you already look forward to your eventual departure.”
Jason didn’t so much as twitch, even though Grenn’s assessment was very accurate. He didn’t want to give her the satisfaction of seeing that she’d disconcerted him, even though he knew she could feel it anyway.
“You don’t need to
worry about my son feeling so much of you,” she said, addressing another of his biggest concerns with a wave of one heavy hand. “Ferran is more empathic than most males, but even he cannot compare to the frailest female. Empathy is an ability we have worked hard to breed into our sons, in an effort to lessen their propensity for destruction. We still have a long way to go, though.”
“Why does he look different from other males?” Jason asked, not caring that it wasn’t a smooth segue. If she could read his emotions, then she could read that he wasn’t in the mood for perfect politesse. He didn’t like dissecting his feelings with the people he loved, and he definitely didn’t feel like having it done for him by a stranger.
“You refer to his coloration?”
Jason nodded.
“It is a genetic anomaly, something that occurs very rarely in our males. It is usually a symbol of a son who has similar gifts to a daughter, and Ferran does. He is intelligent and creative, he is open-minded, and he works hard. Ferran would have made a tremendous matriarch, if he had been raised less deferent. His brother was very similar.”
“Why did his brother kill himself?”
“That,” Grenn said firmly, “is not a question I will answer. Ask another.”
Jason thought for a moment. Then he asked, “Did you plan this?”
It was a question that had been bothering him for weeks. As much as he believed that Ferran truly loved him—and Jason had no doubts about his own feelings—Jason had a hard time believing that one of the leaders of a culture as radically insular as this would simply allow her son, her only son, to marry an alien. And not just marry him, but bring him home and try to assimilate him into the culture. It was too much without there being more in it for Grenn than she had let on.
Grenn chuckled, her grumbling purr even deeper than her son’s. “You are a smart man,” she said at last. “I’m glad Ferran chose for intellect and not simply your pretty face. Not that I think you particularly pretty,” she added, “but those males who have traveled certainly do. My nephews among them.