by Katy Winter
Servants came and went. The servants helped Sarehl sponge Sasqua's face and neck. Kalor came often, his expression one of deep concern. He helped as much as he could, his arms replacing Sarehl's so his friend's cramp could be eased. The hours crept by. Darkness fell. Sasqua lay still in utter exhaustion. Sarehl talked quietly to her. Kaleb ministered to her and watched, with obvious anxiety, the increasing contractions that shook her.
In the early hours of the morning, Sasqua gave sharp cries that jolted Sarehl and made him glance down at the healer stooped over the girl, a frown of concentration on his face. Kaleb looked up to see the question in Sarehl's eyes. He nodded wearily and stroked Sasqua's cheek.
"Child, can you try again?" Sasqua's eyes wandered, the pupils black. Sarehl spoke softly.
"Sasqua, love, try again, for Bethel." She did. "And again," urged Sarehl.
He ran a cool cloth over her forehead and lifted her a little more, encouraging her calmly. A sigh escaped Kaleb as he finally straightened, a tiny infant in his hands.
"Good girl, Sasqua," he whispered. Sasqua lay still, Sarehl's hand clasped in hers.
~~~
Later, Sarehl stood with a tiny bundle held in his arms, dark fuzz covering the tiny head. He felt overwhelming joy mixed with poignant sadness, because he saw over again the births of his brothers and sister, and his own children. And now he held a precious son of Bethel's. To have something of Bethel so close gave him joy; that Bethel didn't know of his son's existence grieved him. He thought only that it should be Bethel who stood here holding his son, not his older brother. He looked down at the crumpled face swathed in linen and murmured to him.
That evening, Sarehl came again to Sasqua's chamber, to find her wide awake and suckling the child, her head bent so far forward her long blond hair hid her face. She didn't hear Sarehl, though Kaleb did and nodded at the bed. Sarehl crossed to it and sat quietly on the edge, bringing up Sasqua's head. She saw who it was and her blush deepened.
"No, child," said Sarehl calmly. "Don't stop because of me. The lad's hungry, so let him feed." Sasqua's free hand clasped Sarehl's.
"It is not considered seemly to feed an infant in front of men where I come from," she whispered.
"It's entirely normal for us, Sasqua," answered Sarehl firmly. "Besides, it's a delight to see a contented child at the breast of its mother."
"Why did you not mate, Sarehl?" Sasqua saw the sudden change in his expression. "I do not mean to be rude," she hastened to add, her eyes a little apprehensive. "It is just that you would be such a good father and mate." The healer came forward, but Sarehl raised his hand.
"If you hadn't asked, Sasqua, I'd have said nothing," he said quietly. "Once I had a mate, and a son and daughter."
"What happened to them?" Sarehl stared into the innocent blue eyes and felt a wrench.
"The Churchik killed them, child, as they injured me." He saw revulsion and horror in her eyes and held the thin hand very firmly.
"Your face," she whispered, her other hand going to her mouth. "And your limp. Did we do that?"
"Yes, child. When Ortok was stormed that's what happened. War's brutal, Sasqua." Sasqua swallowed, her eyes fixed to Sarehl's face.
"Tell me," she begged, "what was her name?"
"Alicia."
"And your children?"
"My son was Saren, and my little infant daughter was Chlo."
"How old would they be now?"
"Saren would be eight cycles and Chlo six." The blond head bent and Sasqua began to weep.
"I am so sorry for what we did to you," she sobbed. "How can you bear to be near me when we wronged you so? And you love Beth as if he is your son too, do you not? You have never said as much to me, but you raised him, did you not?" Sarehl sighed.
"Yes," he said, his voice low and resigned. "Bethel's a son to me, Sasqua." Sasqua gave a wrenching sob.
Kaleb gently lifted the now replete and dozing infant. He placed the baby carefully up on his shoulder so that Sarehl could comfort Sasqua. Without thinking about it, Sasqua leaned over to Sarehl so he could hold her and she nestled against him as if it was the most natural thing to do. Kaleb smiled. He thought that indeed Sasqua treated Sarehl as if he was her older brother and also noticed, too, that Sarehl accepted her as such and treated her very much as though she was his sister.
Once the crying stopped, Sasqua was edged back down the bed so she could rest, her hand still gripping Sarehl's. He brushed a hand across her cheeks and then ran it through now tousled hair.
"You're tired, little one," he said caressingly. "You've worn yourself out and should rest. Bethel would be so proud of you, you know, wouldn't he?" Big drowned blue eyes met his.
"Sarehl," Sasqua began. "We were mated for pudha."
"Yes, I know that."
"But only for pudha," she insisted. "I was not tied in marri to him, as my husband."
"Can you explain this?"
"I was a maid for pudha - we all were. We must be. And a boy must be chaste but manly for the ceremony. The ceremonial mating is a passing thing, done just over the time of pudha. It is not the same as the bedding for marri, or the coming of eletom." Sasqua yawned deeply, her eyes going to the healer laying the infant in a cradle beside her bed.
"Aren't you too tired to talk?" asked Sarehl, feeling drained with the day and freshly disturbed about his past. He was also confused, because he couldn't follow what Sasqua was saying.
"Eletom is when a girl undergoes maturity with an older man, who teaches her the ways and wishes of men. Marri is when a girl is chosen by a warrior to be his wife; as a symbol of their bond and to ensure she is fertile, she is bedded before there is any formal ceremony of marriage six weeks later. Or, if there is no child, the warrior can, if he wishes, pass on a girl to another. If she is not fertile, she may become the first warrior's concubine." Sasqua couldn't see the healer's consternation, or Sarehl's look of rigid disgust. Her eyes were closed. "Beth and I were not put to marri." Sarehl swallowed very hard.
"Are you saying you aren't Bethel's mate?" he asked, with an effort.
"Pudha is not marri, no."
"But you mated after pudha."
"That is forbidden."
"But still you mated, Sasqua. So, in our eyes, that makes you my little brother's mate." The blue eyes opened and stared thoughtfully and curiously at Sarehl.
"That makes you my brother," she said clearly. Sarehl nodded. "You are my nearest male family, then."
"I suppose I must be," agreed Sarehl, raising an eyebrow. "I'm quite happy about that, child, if you are."
"Then what is he to be called?" Sasqua asked quite deliberately, her eyes going to the infant being gently rocked by Kaleb.
"That's your decision, my dear," said Sarehl, beginning to rise. The grip on his hand tightened.
"No," whispered Sasqua. "A father names his son, always."
"But Bethel can't do that for you, little one. You must choose a name for him yourself."
"No!" repeated Sasqua, in a distressed voice. "I will not name him. It is wrong for me to do so." Sarehl met the healer's eyes and he sat again.
"What do you want of me, child?"
"You are his father, Sarehl. That is the Churchik way. Where the father is gone, the brother becomes the father. That is you. You said so. It is your duty to name the boy."
"Oh gods," moaned Sarehl faintly.
"You are the nearest man to a father for my son. You must name him." There was urgency as well as distress in the young voice now. Sarehl patted the hand still held in his.
"He's Bethel's son, Sasqua. What right have I to -?" Sarehl yielded to the entreaty in the blue eyes. "How do you choose a name in Churchik society?"
"He must have the names of my father and his own father."
"And your father is?"
"Kalchok."
Sarehl went quiet while he tried to sort out a name that would reflect the sire and the greatsire, but would not be overtly a Churchik name. Sasqua lay still, her eyes going from
the infant to Sarehl, a question in her eyes. Kaleb said and did nothing. He just continued to rock the cradle and croon gently at the child. Sarehl frowned with concentration.
"If," he said suddenly, a light touching eyes that looked sombre and wistful, "we're to do justice to both names, there's only one name for this little lad of yours, Sasqua. I name him Kalbeth, in honour of both." Sasqua gave a crow of delight. Sarehl glanced at the healer and saw the approving smile in the clear eyes. "That pleases you, little one, does it?"
"Kalbeth," she said, a smile spreading across her thin and weary face. "Kalbeth. Kal means `little`, Sarehl." The healer saw the flinch Sarehl gave in response to that, though he made no comment.
"Well then," said Sarehl, rising and stooping to kiss Sasqua who hadn't relinquished her grasp on his hand. "Is there anything else?"
"Bound to be," murmured Kaleb provocatively.
"Don't spare me!" Sarehl threw at him in an aside.
"Churchik boys grow up with their fathers, Sarehl. Kalbeth must do so with you."
"Grow up with me?" gasped Sarehl, trying to disengage his hand from a tenacious grip.
"A father teaches a boy to be a man; you are his father. He must grow beside you, even though I am his mother."
"Very well," came the resigned sigh. "I'll help you raise the child until his father can do so. Will that satisfy you?"
"And you will teach him to be a man?"
"Yes, Sasqua, I will."
There was a contented sigh below Sarehl and his hand was promptly released. Sasqua closed her eyes and snuggled further down the bed, while Sarehl gave the chuckling healer a reproving look before he left the chamber.
~~~
The infant flourished. Even small, Kalbeth looked as Sarehl remembered Bethel. Sasqua lived for Kalbeth. She gained in strength and had new-found confidence in her surroundings. Sarehl thought she was as deeply contented as it was possible for her to be as he watched her moving among the court, accepting the compliments showered on her about her very beautiful son.
As the infant grew, his hair stayed dark and began to curl, his skin was creamy and his eyebrows and eyelashes were black. It was his eyes that were so unusual. They were blue, but not the pale Churchik blue; they were vivid indigo and were becoming as large and lustrous as his father's. That was the only Churchik Sarehl saw in the small child protectively cradled by his mother.
Daxel's reaction to Kalbeth was one of bemused affection, his long fingers held in tightly grasping and chubby fingers. The youth took the infant for airings as often as he could. He reddened when teased by Kalor, who told Sarehl Dase was inordinately proud of Kalbeth, then, when Kasan arrived at Krynn to be the personal guest of King Otto, it became a question of who got to Kalbeth first. After a day, both Daxel and Kasan would be seen together with the infant, causing muttered comments from the Kyaran princesses who had vied to monopolise Daxel. They didn't welcome another princess at court and their carry-on provided a great deal of amusement for Sarehl and his friends.
~~~
Daxel was distracted from Kalbeth by being informed he was to attend his first ball. It was given to honour both the Strategos and the Chamah's sister. Until now, Daxel had passed the time most agreeably, he and the younger prince of Kyaran much of an age and both ready to try anything. They avoided court wherever possible and spent the hours outside riding, racing, jousting and wrestling, and then, in the evenings, the two sat with the prince's friends, drinking and gambling amiably, quite impervious to the beseeching looks cast at them by the young ladies of the court.
Ahliah was a striking-looking boy with his long mop of thick, straight brown hair and wicked blue eyes that twinkled disconcertingly at the most inappropriate times. The Queen complained he was irreverent and a scapegrace. The King merely laughed at the youthful pranks, his eyes often rested on the dashingly handsome youth accompanying his son. Daxel was unaware of the royal scrutiny, but Sarehl wasn't. It made the Strategos pensive.
This day, though, when Daxel answered his brother's summons, he arrived to find all his brother's friends in attendance. Precipitately, he backed towards the door he'd so blithely flung open, but Kalor stood behind him and promptly shut the door and leaned on it. Daxel's apprehensive expression made Sarehl come forward.
"Lad, you look as if we'd arranged a mating for you," he teased.
"You jest, don't you?" When he saw mirth on Kaleb's face, Daxel relaxed a little. "Why are you all here?"
"The ball this evening," said Sarehl, drawing Daxel to the centre of the room. "You, lad, are going to uphold the honour of Samar."
"I'm what?" stammered Daxel. "Look, Sar, Ensore sent me and -."
"You've been having a thoroughly enjoyable time," interrupted Dalmin. "Well, lad, the time comes when you have to work as well and that's coming to you right now."
"I'll help you, Sar. You've not asked me to do anything, so -."
"That's excellent," beamed Kaleb, nodding at Sache. Sarehl grinned at Daxel.
"You, lad, are to open the ball for me tonight."
"No!" gasped Daxel. "There are hundreds of guests due. I know, because Ahliah told me. He was moaning that he'd have to spend time today with the dancing master because - oh, gods, no! Sar, you can't do this to me. I can't dance."
"Too bad," said Dalmin unsympathetically.
"You'll be able to dance by tonight, lad," promised Kalor on a deep chuckle.
"Sar!" Daxel stared helplessly at his brother.
"I can't teach you to dance, lad, and certainly not the dancing they do here. Samar dancing's more group oriented and highly spontaneous. This is very precise and courtly."
"Sache can do it though," laughed Kaleb. Sache shrugged.
"It's being a Dahkilan in the Chamah's troops," he admitted. "Apart from that, all our men are taught to dance from a young age. There's court dancing and army dancing. Lad," he went on, turning to Daxel with a sudden grin, "you've seen them dancing often enough and you've joined in."
"But not," mumbled Daxel despairingly, "with females!"
"We're going to take turns to teach you," announced Sache. Daxel swivelled his head to stare incredulously at Kalor. Kalor read the look and grinned disarmingly.
"I don't dance with the ladies, lad," he murmured. "I just seduce them."
"Kalor," reproved the healer. Kalor just laughed louder.
"Kaleb, the boy's old enough to know about the real world. Once he's had his first nibble, there'll be no stopping him."
Before Daxel could retort, Sache crossed to him and took him very firmly in hand. Kaleb thought Sache drilled the boy as though Daxel was still in a troop, but it was beneficial because Daxel was so busy minding his feet his flush died and he concentrated on what he was told to do. He was lithe and graceful and would, thought Sarehl watching closely, make an excellent and polished dancer.
"You only need to be fully proficient in three dances," Sarehl told Daxel, as Sache whirled the boy around and Daxel made a mis-step. "You'll open the ball with Kasan, dance at least once with each of the princesses and then lead the final dance."
Daxel came to a halt, and struggled when Sache pulled him sharply.
"I can't." He fell obediently back into step when he caught Sache's eye. "You can't ask me to dance with royalty." He was swung in a way that made him dizzy and breathless, then had to take several small steps backward.
"Belike they'll ask you," laughed Sarehl, looking affectionately across at the very handsome young man gliding diffidently round the scrunched up mats on the floor. "It would be churlish to refuse."
"Did Ens know what awaited me?"
"Probably," came the reply.
"Then I think," came the aggrieved voice, "that it was a mean thing to do."
"My turn, I guess," said a quiet voice beside Daxel and Sache. Sache stood back and Daxel found himself whirled away by Arth, who was athletic and energetic. Sache studied the pair.
"He'll make quite a good dancer in time, Sarehl," he observed, calmly pulling at h
is whiskers. "I'll take him in hand from tomorrow and make him fully competent. That way he can stand in for you any time and not be an embarrassment."
~~~
Daxel's appearance that evening caused much comment. Without making a fuss about it, Sarehl had decided he'd wear the colour the Paramon always wore at state occasions, such as they ever were in Ortok. It was dull gold. Sarehl, elegantly attired in black and gold, made Kasan's heart turn over - she thought he looked so unaffected and graceful. Even the limp didn't detract from the Strategos' appearance. Kaleb, sitting back critically, felt Sarehl drew all eyes. So did Daxel.
The youth was clad, from head to toe, in dull gold with black lacing. When he entered the huge and ornate reception room, he was a step behind his elder brother, so wasn't seen immediately. Their superior height made them stand out and so did their dark colouring, but Daxel, as Sarehl intended he should, stunned the guests.
When their majesties heard the brothers announced, they awaited the graceful pair as they made their way easily down the line of honoured guests. Kasan curtsied and gave Daxel a rakish grin that he returned in a brotherly way, but her smile up at Sarehl was shy. It broadened when he whispered,
"You outshine any other royalty, my dear. Ensore will be surprised when he sees you again."
She clasped his hand and then he was gone. When he and Daxel reached royalty, Daxel copied his brother. His bow may not have had the polish of Sarehl's, but it was deep and courtly.
The king looked from one brother to another and smiled benignly.
"The familial resemblance is very strong, Strategos, isn't it?"
"So everyone tells us, Your Majesty," acknowledged Sarehl, with a twinkle in his eye.
"You make a fine pair," said Otto, looking hard at them again. "A most handsome boy, my love," he added loudly to his wife, who stared especially fixedly at Daxel.
Sarehl couldn't help but be amused by the fluttering Daxel caused. It deepened with the knowledge that Daxel hadn't yet developed in the petticoat line, so Sarehl wondered how Daxel would cope with all the attention he was going to attract. He was a most appealing youth and modest bashfulness added to his charm.
He was pleasantly flattered by the assiduous attention paid him by the princesses, both very attractive and of marriageable age. It was Ahliah's droll looks at his sisters that helped ease Daxel's first moments of acute shyness. He endured a somewhat bemused banquet, because he was in demand from first one princess and then another, aware, too, of the encouraging nods of approval he received from the queen. Sarehl saw the questioning look he got from his brother, merely raised an eyebrow, shook his head slightly and returned to his conversation with the Lord Chancellor who demanded to be told something about the northern army. Daxel decided to relax and as soon as he did he began to enjoy himself.