Shovel Talk
by Shadowy Star
2013
Disclaimer: I don't own the Coldfire trilogy. It belongs to C.S. Friedman. I do own this story. Characters, places, locations and organizations not appearing or being mentioned in the books are also mine. Do not archive or translate or otherwise use it without permission.
Summary: He should have known he was in trouble when his mortal son, his daughter-in-law, his part-alien son and said part-alien son's half-sister and -brother appeared in his library.
A/N: Exactly what it says on the tin. Set in Chapter 5 of 'Survivals'. Finished as part of New Year Resolution 2014. One down, three to go!
In retrospect, he should have known he was in trouble when his mortal son, his daughter-in-law, his part-alien son, and said part-alien son's half-sister and -brother appeared in his library.
Geraldine was in the loveseat, half draped over her husband, both grinning mischievously and on the whole just being annoyingly newly-wed.
Riven silently occupied the armchair close to the unlit fireplace, looking perversely delighted and uncomfortable at once and Karril and Saris had just decided to take shape out of thin air.
He placed the book he'd just finished onto the shelf it had come from. "To what do I owe the honor of your visit?"
"We've been told of many confusing traditions concerning marriage ceremony humans indulge in." To his complete and utter shock it was Riven who spoke first. Behind him, Geraldine stifled a chuckle.
"And seeing that we're part of the family and were invited, we wish to experience some of them," Saris added with a stunningly beautiful smile – of course. Karril was staring at her in open adoration.
"That being said..." Geraldine smoothly took over, and for all the warmth in her voice the red-haired woman's smile didn't reach her eyes. She stood, seemingly relaxed, but with that simple act something had shifted in the room and the currents around him whispered of a very real danger. He frowned inwardly at the thought. Danger? Here?
"You see," she began lightly, walking towards him until they were almost face to face, and how could he imagine her dangerous? She was rather stubborn – a trait she doubtlessly inherited from Damien – but she was also just as warm-hearted so he failed to see where the threateningly acute echo of danger had come from? "Once upon a time when Erna wasn't what she's now, there was a man with a daughter. The girl's mother hadn't been the love of his life." He could only stare at his daughter-in-law in surprise. Was it? If it was, she was giving him a gift he never thought possible – a glimpse into the twenty years of Damien's life he knew nothing about. Had taken every precaution possible to avoid knowing anything about.
"The girl knew it, and perhaps the mother knew it, too, it doesn't matter anymore. However, the girl was fascinated by riddles and became a loremaster. And now tell me, dear father-in-law, what's the loremasters' essential mission and purpose?"
"To collect knowledge, of course." He still didn't see where this was heading.
"All knowledge or any special knowledge?"
"The first."
"Well then, hypothetically, how familiar are you with treatises on the Dark Ages and the finer arts of torture?"
He stared at her in complete shock.
"So, if one were to hurt her father..." Her grin had far too much teeth.
He heroically resisted the urge to swallow. How could he imagined her harmless? What had he been thinking?
"Well, let's just say you'd be begging for her to share one particular piece of information with the rest of the world long before she'd be done with you." Karril's eyes had shifted to deep, deep black, reminding him vividly of Calesta, and the destroyed Iezu's finely spun and very, very deadly illusions.
"There is ecstasy in killing, and a dark, twisted beauty in torture." That from Saris, and somehow it explained nothing only that it did. " She has such a delightful imagination."
"And so do we," Riven added.
With that, all three Iezu flickered from sight.
For a moment or two, silence reigned.
He looked at his traitorous son in search for help.
"Leave me out of it, Father. I'm only here for the sheer fun of it."
"How come that my own family conspires against me?" he tried to lighten the mood.
"It was probably your A+ parenting?"
"My father has suffered enough," Geraldine's eyes narrowed, and 'at your hands' went unsaid but not unheard, "but for some reason he decided to give you a chance. I trust you with his heart. Don't make me regret it."
And that, that was almost ridiculously easy. He straightened. "You won't. Because I'd rather go to Hell –as in willingly send myself to my own cozy corner of it, for the rest of eternity– before I'd ever do something this stupid."
Her thin, cold smile warmed rapidly and the feeling of danger melted away when she understood and accepted the implications. After all, he had been to his own personal Hell once. Then she nodded, and walked out.
"Relax, Dad. Have you never been given the honored shovel talk before?"
He had been, in either lifetime. The problem was that he'd never thought it serious before.
Not anymore.
FIN
Extra Notes:
1) That family is scary, aren't they? And boy, did that plot bunny bite! *grins* And now, I can finally move to the fic I actually wanted to finish!