I got a couple of complaints about how confusing it was to distinguish what people had what child, and I realized that they were right, so I revised it a little. I hope it's a little better...
"Feh! I have no patience for you, little prince, no patience for boy who cannot counter sweeping foot!"
Some of the onlookers watching from the edge of the courtyard turned away to hide their smiles. Keladry herself had to focus quite intently to maintain hold on her blank Yamani face as she observed the fierce little woman and young adults and children. Old Nariko was in her early nineties and had, since she was imported from the Yamani Islands twenty-five years ago, taken on an apprentice named Tadao, but her tongue was no less sharp than when she had had Kel herself as a student. She could remember quite acutely how the emperor's old training-master had corrected her mistakes.
"I do believe Nariko has lost her touch," someone murmured very quietly in her ear.
"If you believe that, why make such an effort to keep her from hearing you?" she whispered back to Shinkokami.
The Yamani woman prudently hid a smile behind her fan and turned back to the courtyard, but Yukimi, who had long since forsaken the use of her fan, carefully concealed her grin behind her hand. She had embraced eastern ways much more openly than Shinko had, but Kel suspected that was because of their positions—Shinko was yet Yamani polite and diplomatic, which would aid her considerably when she became queen, whereas Yuki was, ultimately, influenced by Neal.
"Remember when Shinko tripped over her own glaive?"
Kel felt a grin coming on. "I never saw her so mad."
"I cannot say that I recall that," Shinko muttered, reddening.
The three women heard a shout and turned behind them, spotting a tall brown-haired man coming towards them and bearing a very small child barely out of infancy. The resemblance between them was remarkable: the very same emerald eyes, willful face, and the long wide-tipped nose that the male relatives of Queenscove seemed determined to have. There was very little to distinguish the toddling boy from the melodramatic knight who held him.
"Is he okay?" Yuki asked, taking the little child and planting a noisy kiss on one chubby cheek. She had a special affinity for her husband's lookalike relative, for her own children were all Yamani-dark.
"He might be coming down with the itching pox, but it's impossible to say now," Neal said cheerfully. "If it is, you should see little red bumps in a couple of days, and he'll scratch them. If not, then he's just being fussy."
"I can never get over the resemblance between the boy and you, Neal," Shinko interjected suddenly.
"Genetics are strange," Neal agreed. "Yuki, stopped coddling him—he's not even yours!"
As if in concurrence, Yuki's charge wiggled fiercely from her arms and onto the ground with a sharp, demanding squall. He latched onto Kel's breeches with dimpled hands and released one of those piercing screeches he was infamous before. She sighed, and then scooped up her two-year-old son; at this height, he caught sight of the training in the courtyard and instantly ceased his tantrum. The youngest of her brood, little Nealan was a late baby and also—although she would never, ever voice it—a complete accident. A pregnancy at forty-three seemed impossible, and had not looked forward to a fifth child so late in life, especially when all she had personally wanted was two—another thought she would never have spoken to her friends or children, although Dom suffered the tirade well. But he's impossible not to love, Kel thought, fondly smoothing back hair from the small boy's forehead. He's loud, brash, and prone to horrible tantrums, but he reminds me so much of Neal, and with my other children gone, it's nice to have someone to take care of.
"So he's okay?" Kel asked. "He just seems so fussy lately."
"You mean more than usual?" Neal made a face. "He's got a small fever, and I see little red bumps beneath the skin on his neck—telltale signs of itching pox. It's pretty much harmless."
"Good," she replied, relieved. "I feared he was coming down with something worse."
"He's good as gold in that direction," he assured her. "And he does have the Gift. You can argue all you want, and I'd believe you if I hadn't tested him myself, but somehow it skipped Dom, and your other four, and got him. He's like me reincarnated."
Kel sighed. "Well, I'll have three knights in the family. I guess it won't hurt to have a healer."
"You say that like it's a bad thing," Neal admonished. "Your children can't all be warriors, Keladry of Masbolle."
"I know," she said dryly. "Look at Berdine."
Wisely, her friends held their tongues.
One of the young men training in the courtyard abruptly broke away and trotted toward them, sheathing his sword. He was a tall, broad young man whose outgoing personality and wonderfully handsome countenance bore no resemblance at all to his mother. Kel smiled affectionately at her eldest son, in whose face she could so clearly see the youth that Dom himself must have been so many years ago. The same flashing white grin, impossibly blue eyes, dark curls—even that cursed Queenscove-Masbolle nose she had resigned herself to loving. Nothing in his face belied his Mindelan heritage. A step behind him was his shadow, who was a year younger than and an inch shy of Dommy himself. This younger boy was possessed of a sleek, catlike grace and passionate hazel eyes, with a delicately built nose that was still, despite its size, a replica of his father's and brother's. Kel worried about Raoul, for all that Dommy looked after him: he lacked the ambition that he should have as a squire and was instead moody and impulsive, which she feared would get him killed one day.
"Mother," Dommy greeted, and kissed her heartily on the cheek. "Come to check up on your children?" Ever charming, he also kissed Yuki and Shinko, who accepted graciously with amused eyes.
To her surprise, Raoul also stepped up and gave her a smart kiss. At sixteen, he had long since outgrown his affection for his mother.
"Sarene took a squire," he told Neal. "A Jesslaw."
Neal threw his hands in the air. "I warned her," he said, shaking his head. "I told her, any son of Jesslaw will have sheep's brains. A Jesslaw," he muttered, disgusted. "Which one? Erric? Miden?"
"Dell."
"Even worse," he cried, "Owen's son! My daughter has no sense."
"So what if Dell is somewhat tactless?" Yuki reproved. "He's talented, you can't deny that. And he's got heart."
"Owen has heart too, and that's why he lost a hand," Neal retorted. "He and all his sons are insanely courageous."
"My knight-master is looking for you, Aunt Shinko," Dommy interrupted, speaking to the Yamani princess. "The Copper Isles ambassador finally wants to discuss what he came here for."
"About time," Shinko said irritably, snapping her fan shut in a rare show of temper. "He has been here a week, and it took until now to get to the point. I hope it's not a marriage proposal for Liano; Roald will never accept a Copper Isles consort. Dovasary is pleasant enough, but you still can't forget the Rittevons. Where is Roald, perchance?"
"Throne room. 'Tis where I left him."
"Thank you, Dommy." As soon as she moved, a horde of her ladies-in-waiting rushed over to hover. "Roger, come!"
A black-haired youth obediently turned from the group. As Shinko marched briskly toward the palace doors, her youngest son immediately fell in step behind her, almost an entire head taller. So many children, Kel thought, amazed. When did we have so many?
"She is nervous about the coronation," Yuki said quietly. "She knows Tortall as well as Queen Thayet, but she still fears it."
"So Thayet and Jonathan are definitely stepping down then?" Kel asked softly.
"Very soon," Neal said with uncharacteristic solemnity. "Roald and Shinko may be king and queen next month. A shame, for Jonathan and Thayet did well."
"Thayet's very ill," Dommy interjected, "and Roald has long since been governing in Jonathan's place, once the king aged."
"He's just in his seventies," Raoul protested. "He's still quick."
"Roald is my knight-master," his brother said, annoyed. "I would know better than you."
"Now, children, let's not argue," Neal chided, straight-faced.
"No talent, no skill! I have no patience with you. I will leave tomorrow for Yamani Islands!"
"She says that every time," Dommy said in exasperation. "She said that ten years ago."
As Nariko grumbled at them, the crowd of children dispersed. There were many who wanted to learn bare-handed attacks, more than there had been even five years ago. Kel watched them, picking out the ones she knew. Two were of Pirate's Swoop, Alanna's grandsons by Alan; the youngest ibn Alhaz daughter, who must have snuck away from home—her father was infamously conservative Zahir; she certainly could locate the huge redheaded boy who resembled Cleon enough to make her smile. Two of those many figures ambled toward them: a big, solid girl who looked wistfully familiar, with her dreamer's hazel eyes, delicate nose, full mouth, and short plain brown hair, and a little boy with straight black hair, dark eyes, and an honest, open face.
The boy rushed to Neal, who lifted him up and ruffled his hair cheerfully. "Well, Emry, do you still want to be a knight? It's ten times worse than what ol' Nariko puts you through."
"Keli's going to be one," he said defiantly, "so I'll be one too."
"You'll be sorry," Neal said glumly.
"I got an offer, Mama," Kelane said shyly, moving into Kel's hug. She looked as much like Kel as Dommy did Dom, but gods if she didn't have that deep, musical voice Kel had long yearned for from her own mother.
Yuki accepted Emry, her youngest child, while Neal and Dommy exclaimed, "Who?"
"It's not as good as Raoul's," she said quickly. Kel patted her hand sympathetically. She knew how desperately her daughter had wanted Alan of Pirate's Swoop, and how devastated she was when her brother was innocently picked. "But I'm happy with 'em."
"Great gods, child, spit it out!" Neal said, aggravated.
"Sir Tamer of Legann," she blurted.
"That's way better than Sir Alan," Raoul said enviously. "Tamer's a—a legend!"
"So's Alan," Kelane retorted.
Our children, knights, Kel thought fondly, trading forlorn looks with Neal. His sons and daughter were famous knights already, especially nimble little Sarene, and it seemed Emry, the last of his and Yuki's litter, would follow. She was glad little Nealan was born—Neal would be delighted if his second cousin decided to be a healer. In four months, her own eldest would be Sir Domitan, and only a year later she would have a Sir Raoul, considering, of course, Raoul would stick with it, that silly changeable boy. And then Lady Knight Kelane—what Kel had dreamed for her daughters since they were babes-in-arms.
At least for one daughter it came true.
"Did you ever think it would be like this?" Neal asked wistfully. "I'm a father, six times over."
"And I'm a mother," Kel agreed. "A real one, not 'Lady-Mother,' or—"
"Protector of the Small?" Dommy murmured sweetly, and was rewarded with a stern frown.
"Even Owen has children," Neal said in a loud whisper. "Seven hearty sons, and by a Cavall, no less!"
Kel couldn't resist a giggle. "Do you remember Wyldon at the wedding?"
"He looked like he swallowed a lemon," Neal crowed, delighted. "It was spectacular."
"Merric had his three daughters—"
"All as redheaded as he is," he said, rolling his eyes.
"Cleon, four children—"
"Also barbarically redheaded," Neal muttered. "Too many redheads in my opinion."
"Who else?" Kel mused.
No one mentioned freckled Esmond, or the widow and two children he had unwillingly left thirteen years past.
"What about that King's Reach fellow?" Yuki inquired.
"Married Seaver's sister," he sighed. "It must be awkward at family reunions. The marriage caused a complete falling-out between them, with Rasanne already betrothed. They don't even have kids. Of course, Faleron had a son by his first wife, the wench."
"Poor man," Yuki said, shaking her head.
"Never understood why she left him for Quinden," Neal said, disgruntled. "Yes, that's right, you scraps. We had lives long before you came into existence."
A grin spread across her face as Kel raised an eyebrow at the wide-eyed children, shifting little Nealan to her other shoulder, where he refused to come out of the nap he seemed to have, blessedly, fallen into at some point. All her children here, with her as they should be, all except—
"Did Dom take Berdine to the convent today?" Neal asked kindly.
Out of the corner of her eye, Kel saw her daughter and Raoul stiffen. She thought with a bittersweet tug of her youngest daughter, almost thirteen. How a proper noblewoman had been born into a warrior family, she didn't know. She hadn't raised her any differently—but Berdie shunned anything boyish or dirty from the very beginning, and seemed determined to be a lady. She looked the part, certainly, with her demure white hands and shy eyes, blue with the barest hint of green to make them exotic, her dark sleek hair straight, always braided in a thick, long rope, and her willowy, gentle grace. She got along horribly with her sister, bickering over how a female should act, and Kelane felt she had misplaced her priorities and family loyalties. Raoul just enjoyed arguing. Dommy was too affable to be offended, and Neal, of course, was much too young to care.
"Yes," she said awkwardly. "She's happy there. I suppose if she…if she wants to be a proper lady, she can be one, since I have my knights, and my warrior-maiden, and my healer. And we've had offers for her, when she comes of age." One was from Cleon's wife, but Kel would not accept the offer that Berdie would marry their youngest son, for it seemed history was destined to repeat itself, if Kelane's knowing blush was any indication. A Kennan seemed determined to marry a Mindelan, and this time it might just work out, between Kelane and Lyon. The most likely candidate for Berdie was from haMinch, one of the noblest houses. Berdie was delighted.
"You can't have everything," Yuki said gently. "Gods know I know that—I don't want my sons and only daughter getting killed. I want them with me, always young, doing something simple and safe. But they've grown up, and I know enough not to even try to keep them."
"I won't grow up, Mama," Emry said sincerely. "I'll stay with you and be a knight, too."
Yuki smiled lovingly at her small son. "You do that, darling." Emry smiled winsomely at her before struggling in her grasp; reluctantly, she let him down.
When did we grow so old? Kel wondered. Neal's fifty-one already, and that's half a century. When did Yuki get so much gray in her hair… when did I get so much gray? What happened to my babies? It seems as though only yesterday Dom and I had just started out, and I had just my two boys.
"Time passes too fast," Kel sighed, touching young Raoul's hair. He didn't pull away. "Soon I won't have any children with me."
"Yeah," Neal said, putting an arm first around his wife, then around his best friend. They slowly began to make their way back to the palace. "But think of how obnoxious they would be if they were always here."
"Wait until we have grandchildren," Yuki teased.
Neal shuddered. "I could barely handle my little imps, much less the imps of my imps."
Dommy cleared his throat, his eyes wicked. "Well, then, I'll just let Ike tell you the interesting news himself."
"What interesting news could my eldest son possibly ha—no. No, I refuse to believe what you're insinuating."
Raoul gave an exaggerated shrug. "Well, if you don't want to hear…"
"Yuki," Neal cried, turning to her. "It's not—true, is it?"
"I tried to tell you last night," she said, patting his hand sympathetically. "But you started humming some ballad very loudly, and I'm you couldn't hear me…"
"I don't believe you," Neal declared. "I am much too young and sane to be a grandfather."
"Of course you are," Kel simpered.
They walked in silence for a minute. Then—
"Grandfather," she cracked.
He tackled her.
I hope the parent-child relationships are a little clearer...read and review please!