Lillith

by Carol Buhler

  “Joldon and I are here for you,” I’d add, over and over.

  Raldon’s Uncle Romdon, struggling with his own shock and grief, stayed by the boy’s bed, he and his reeth-mate adding their own promise of continuing life. Finally, Raldon awoke one morning, heavy-eyed but reconciled that he had to go on. Collectively, we breathed a sigh of relief, having feared we might lose him to a broken heart over his failure to save his family.

  Chapter 7

  Raldon changed. The previous mischievousness that had made him a nuisance darkened into wilder behavior. Although he accepted his inheritance, his father’s name—Raedon—and place as Speaker for his family, he rarely stayed at Citadel or attended council meetings. He took risks beyond reasonableness, spending more and more time playing, gaming, and yes, whoring among the humans. To my relief, Joldon and I did not accompany the new Raedon as much; Joldon’s council duties were expanding as he approached his twenty-fifth birthday. Depending on Memmyon to care for his mind-mate, I allowed myself to be pulled away into other duties.

  Shortly after the birthday celebration to which Raedon showed up drunk and Joldon had to escort him into a spare bedroom to sleep it off, the council decided, stupidly, I thought, to announce their scheme. Lord Joedon instructed Joldon in front of the full council, “When Saradon turns thirty, you and she will marry and reunite the royal lines.” Furious, Joldon did not react then, nor did he refuse openly. But after that day, he joined Raedon in his wild behavior more often than he attended council meetings.

  We went to speak with Saradon. They agreed they wouldn’t suit and Saradon swore him she did not want to marry him any more than he wanted to marry her. I wasn’t convinced, feeling she was crazy in love with him, but I’d promised not to meddle and I didn’t. Especially since she was so young and Joldon still saw her as a little girl, even a little sister. Perhaps, in the future.

  Then, Joldon came up with another way to subtly express his defiance without bringing up Saradon’s name.

  “I don’t like that you and Lillyon can’t live in the mansion with me,” he said as he directed me to fly north of Center to a location he wanted me to inspect. I landed on a small ledge half-way up a sheer cliff. Surprisingly, the ledge opened into a narrow tunnel-like cave which led inward into what turned out to be a fairly large cavern. I only had to duck my head and tuck my wings for a few strides before space opened out large enough to hold a full herd of reeth.

  “I want to build us a home, move out of the Joe Mansion and live here with you, Lillyon, and any of your family you choose to bring with you.” Reading his mind, I knew he included both our son and daughter with their families in his plans.

  I gazed at him with wonder. He’d allowed no inkling of his thinking to escape over the few weeks since he confessed to finding the cavern with Raedon and Memm’s help. “Your father won’t like this.”

  “I don’t care. I’m old enough to be on my own. I want to live with you, not them. And it’s just not right that there’s no room in the mansion for you and yours.” Turning, he strode back to the entrance. “We only have to widen this a few feet and raise the roof a bit to allow entrance to the largest reeth.” He waved an arm toward what looked like a side tunnel to the right. “Down that way, there’s another, smaller cavern with a flat floor that I can fashion into a separate home for myself and future family...” He walked toward the back of the huge cavern. “...and with some walls we could turn this space into a comfortable home for you and Lillyon.”

  I instantly liked the idea.

  Building our new home caused Raedon and Joldon to forego their dangerous jaunts into human territory and kept both of them out of Lord Joedon’s concern for several months. He wasn’t thrilled with the scheme, but to my surprise, he set no roadblocks in Joldon’s way. I believe Lord Joedon was happy to have his son thoroughly engrossed in the project rather than flitting around the countryside with Raedon, whom he considered wild and unstable. I thought the boy had taken the deaths of his family better than anyone could have expected. Although he hadn’t stepped into his role as Rae family Speaker as Lord Joedon wanted him to, he was more careful with himself than anyone realized. Personally, I was proud of the boy and thought his mind-mate’s influence was exceptional.

  Curved walls went up, giving my part of the home an open flowing feeling, as the boys and their helpers portioned off sleeping rooms, kitchens, and a large dining room. A sluggish warm-water spring was dug out and we acquired a wonderful hot bathing pool inside the cavern! A large open area gradually developed a deep sand floor as reeth after reeth carted in bundles to spill the contents in small piles. The boys wielded rakes and spread the sand: we had a perfect exercise arena.

  Using piping methods obtained from observing humans, they ran both hot and cold water into Joldon’s home and the sole don electrician installed lighting and power running from a generator placed in another small cave on the upward slope. One day, Memmyon and Lillyon, using a sling they’d borrowed from the local market, brought a refrigerator. I liked it so much I sent them back for another. Of course, such objects had to be carefully purchased from the humans as don had no manufacturing ability. But then, the market had been obtaining clandestine purchases from humans all over the planet for years. Don and reeth may hide from the creatures, but none of us were above using their conveniences when we could.

  Everyone attended our open house at Eyrie, held over the course of three days. Lord Joedon complimented both boys and their helpers on the quality workmanship and excellent design. Even Finnyon loved the bathing pool, casually expressing a wish for one of his own. Lillyon invited the arrogant one to visit whenever he chose.

  Friends and family brought gifts: Joldon hung paintings, laid rugs in his home, and set up furniture. I hired two don families, ones without mind-mates, to help with the feeding, gathering, and cleaning of our reeth quarters, providing them with homes of their own within the extensive cavern as well as all their food and other needs. Exhausted but happy, we settled in.

  A few weeks later, I discovered I was pregnant.

  Joldon crowed with laughter and teased Lillyon and me about being way too content in our new home. My health became a daily worry for him, but my condition stopped him from going with Raedon to frolic among the humans. Gratefully, I watched him settle once more into the serious study of government. Lord Joedon and Lady Soreladon came to congratulate me and thank me for coming up with a solution to tame Joldon’s wild behavior. I didn’t explain that I hadn’t done it on purpose.

  The eleven months passed quickly and when the time came, Joldon was more panic struck than Lillyon. He knelt at my head crooning endearments while I labored. When I stood, he rose, too. When I dropped back down, he crouched again at my head, stroking my neck. I had more trouble than I remembered from earlier deliveries but with both my daughter and daughter-in-law with me, and Joldon talking constantly, the birth passed relatively quickly.

  A filly! Lillyon trumpeted with joy. But my labor hadn’t stopped. Seconds later, a matching colt pulled himself out of my womb. Twins! Lillyon and my older son stomped and whinnied crazily around the area outside my birthing place. Joldon shouted and danced around them, slapping Lillyon on the back with congratulations. My daughter helped me stand and we all stared breathless as the twins scrabbled around on wobbly legs and finally found their feet, then the correct spot to nurse.

  Twins! My mother would have loved them. Neither was white. I had been concerned. At my age, the danger of producing a lethal white foal increased. These two precious babies were solidly bay, so much so that Joldon waggled his eyebrows at Lillyon, questioning their paternity. My patient husband explained that bays are often born into the Lill family and he had no doubts. After all, the twins did have his facial structure although no other defining features could be determined at their age.

  Raising them at Eyrie was more of a challenge than I’d anticipated. Excessively active, they dashed madly around, keeping their two parents, and their older siblings plus
their spouses, constantly on watch. I would have thought guarding one small opening to the outside and a sheer drop of several hundred feet wouldn’t be too complicated for six adult reeth. But after Lillyon caught our young son Lillaird almost down the forbidden tunnel to the opening, we upped our vigilance.

  I’d feed them in the morning, Joldon and I then flew to Center for the day to deal with council business, and I’d return in the evening to feed them again and hear the trials and tribulations of daily twin guarding. Recognizing that the daily flight was taxing my energy, Joldon worked out an arrangement for Lillyon to ferry him to Center most of the time. Whether or not it helped me, I wasn’t sure. Being home all day meant the twins constantly demanded some sort of attention from me. I felt a tiny wedge forming between my mind-mate and me but could come up with no way to avoid it. Another thing that was atypical about our particular mind-meld was that, usually, don couples had married reeth couples, who all had young ones around the same time periods, allowing everyone to share in the care. Sighing, I reconciled myself to being temporarily out of the governmental loop.

  Chapter 8

  The twins were around two months old when Joldon came home from Center fuming. “What’s going on?” I asked as I fended Lillail away with my head. She butted me hard in the udder in protest; then, being slightly more amenable than her brother, moved away to let me talk with my mind-mate.

  “Those idiots have brought up the notion of curtailing Gather in the plains north of the Sapphire Sea, again. This has to be the sixth time we’ve argued this topic in council.”

  “Who’s saying what?”

  “It’s a few of those un-melded Speakers again, whining about Gathering for reeth they don’t have. The opposition leader—you know, Taldon—is not supporting them. In fact, I think he’s tired of the debate and is more in line with Father’s thinking this time.” His voice changed to mimic his father’s. “They may not have reeth-mates but they sure don’t hesitate to ask for rides when they need to get around.”

  Lillail wandered back into the room. With a little shake as if he was throwing off the disagreement, Joldon reached to scratch vigorously on her butt. She loved it, stretching her head out and flapping her upper lip in pleasure. “You’re growing like a weed, you know, girl!” She whirled and pushed her head into his chest, waggling ears in a bid for more attention. “You’re too spoiled for your own good,” he muttered as he complied.

  He dropped his hand when Lillaird came in, shouldered his sister out of the way, and pressed close for his share of the notice Joldon was freely handing out. My son preferred a hearty rub down his spine followed by kneading of his neck muscles. Being my mind-mate, Joldon knew all the tricks to use to keep them happy, saying that when they were happy, he got more of my regard than if they were cranky. He was right, of course.

  Shortly, he was called for dinner and went off to wash. I forgot the council quarrel as I allowed the twins to nurse for a bit, then sent them to their father to nibble at baskets of grass spread around the dining room. Later that night, the two got into a fight over who-knows-what, butting heads and gouging each other with half formed wings. Lillyon ordered them to bed in separate rooms, which both protested loudly. I dropped, emotionally drained, into my own bed.

  The next day around noon, Joldon and Lillyon arrived home early, Joldon again raging with fury. Lillyon reported a severe shouting match between Joldon and Lord Joedon. When I asked him about it, he ranted, barely able to force the words past his anger. “Father’s taken Mother to investigate. Someone claims to have seen humans camping and harvesting grass in one of our best gathering spots. I told him I’d go instead but he yelled in my face that he was the Supreme Don and it was his duty to prove the dissenters wrong.” Pacing, Joldon more or less flung himself around the room, then fell into a chair. In a more controlled tone, he muttered, “Stubborn old fool. Why Mother went with him, I’ll never know.”

  It was dark and we’d scattered to all parts of the cavern when I heard it: the death knell of the reeth. Shaking with premonition, I sent a call to find out who had died. Word came back instantly: Lord Joedon and Lady Soreladon had been struck by lightning flying home from the northern plains. Finnyon had been talking with Sellyon, Sara’s father’s reeth-mate, when it happened. When Sellyon and Sardon investigated, they found the bodies burned past recognition with little left for burial.

  Frozen with shock, I stood like a statue in the dining room, unable to think what to do. Every reeth in the cavern had heard at the same time I did and they came pouring into the room to offer comfort. In my dismay, I neglected to block my thoughts. Suddenly, Joldon was there, his face a sickly white, his blue eyes huge, muscles tense with denial. “Tell me it’s not true,” he begged, his breath coming raggedly.

  I sagged with grief and whispered, “I can’t. I’m so sorry. It’s true.” Refusing to share the mental pictures I received from Sellyon—they were just too gruesome for Joldon to see—I quickly blocked my mind. Before we could make any sort of decision, Sardon had organized other don and reeth to bury them where they’d fallen. As far as I was concerned, Joldon would never see what little was left of his parents.

  I wasn’t successful in keeping it from him. Memmyon had received the horrible scene just as I had and shared it with Raedon. I don’t know what Joldon did—threatened, cajoled, begged. He got Memm to share it with him. When he returned home, his face seemed that of a dead man, drained of color, drained of life.

  “I should have gone instead,” he muttered, not even responding to my caress. “It’s my fault they’re gone.”

  “No, it is not your fault!” I cried. “It was a freak accident. Nothing you could have done differently would have saved them.”

  Flinging his head back as if I’d struck him, he shouted, “If I’d gone, they wouldn’t have been there to be struck by lightning!” I couldn’t refute his words and I didn’t think he wanted to hear me insist that if we’d gone, we might have died in their place. With aching heart, I watched him storm off to his suite, tears pouring down his face.

  Sara came, with her parents, to give comfort. Joldon turned them away without even a word to thank Sardon for all he’d done. Raedon and his uncle tried to talk with him, to get him to acknowledge his innocence in their deaths. Various Speakers and their femm appeared with condolences. I had to turn them away. He even closed me out, blocking his mind from mine. I didn’t have the energy to insist.

  Between tending the twins, who seemed to develop worse behavior in reaction to our grief, and trying to prepare for Joldon’s upcoming investiture as the Supreme Don and the duties we would have to assume, I felt myself losing control of everything. Lillyon took over some of the meetings with Speakers and their mind-mates and the opposition leader handled all the preparations for the ceremony. With Sardon planning the funeral in Joldon’s stead, I shouldn’t have been so overwhelmed, but Joldon’s anguish seeped into my being. Even though his thinking was blocked, his emotions weren’t and the swells of misery made it hard to think.

  The funeral was held over their final resting place, way to the north on a knoll overlooking the vast grassy plains. I thought it a beautiful spot, appropriate for a final resting place. Maybe once this is over, Joldon will come back to life.

  Sellyon had informed me that Lord Joedon had found no sign of humans near enough to cause trouble with the Gathers and had intended to end the debate with a resolution forbidding further discussion for fifty years. I looked forward to helping Joldon follow through with his father’s last plan.

  Speakers dressed in formal family uniforms, ladies in high style, reeth finely curried and beribboned, paid homage that day to their fallen leader. The only dry eye seemed to be Joldon’s. He stood straight and stiff, Raedon by his one side, me on the other, his face as if carved from stone as his Uncle Sardon read the eulogy.

  When we prepared to leave, Taldon, the opposition leader approached. “We’d like to schedule the Investiture Samday at 1:00,” he said quietly in the
face of Joldon’s glower. Without a word, my mind-mate nodded his head, turned to me, and mounted. He said nothing on the way home to Eyrie.

  Joldon’s deep pain seemed over. He came to meals and, if there was a missing spark in his eye, at least he was talking, moving, reacting to others. Although I knew it wasn’t good to have him bury his grief, I couldn’t get him to open up and talk about it. Raedon tried and was no more successful than me. The one refrain was still quietly running through Joldon’s mind, just below the surface. “I tried to stop him from going.”

  On Samday, we gathered in the courtyard before the Council Chambers; even Raedon had come. They walked into the building together, Joldon projecting calm, cool abstraction. Through his eyes, I saw that every Speaker’s desk was filled and some had older members of the families seated by their leaders. Joldon wore the house uniform—not of the Speaker—but of the heir: black tunic and trousers with silver piping. He’d refused the fancy, knee-high boots. Instead he had on his every-day riding boots. He strode forward and took his place at the Joe family desk. Taldon, Head Speaker Pro-tem, took the podium and presented Joldon to the assembly as Lord Joedon, Supreme Don.

  “I’m going to have to change my thinking,” I said to Lillyon. “He’ll be Joedon from now on.”

  “That shouldn’t be hard,” he said with a confident air.

  “You are right. I am so proud of him!”

  Before the applause inside had died, Joedon mounted the dais and called for quiet. “I accept the name in honor of my father.” He paused and I held my breath worried about what he’d say next. He hadn’t told me what he planned but his mind was boiling with rage.

  “I will not accept the position Father held, leading this body of stupid decision makers who caused his death and that of my mother. Do not look to me to direct you. Do not name me Lord.” He stepped down and strode toward the outside before the gasps had died down inside.