Disclaimer: see some other chapter.
Notes: In which the question of Zel's fitness to marry into the legion of Eeeevil is settled. Next post--let the games begin. ^________^
^w^ ^w^ ^w^ ^w^
Holiday
by Nightfall Rising
part nine
^w^ ^w^ ^w^ ^w^
The doors creaked open, and the butler appeared, saying, "Mr. Greyweir wishes to be announced."
"You all have things to do," Gaav ordered. "Decide what they are and go do them."
As his elder children looked at one another in annoyance, Val pushed up a little and quietly said, "Just remember, Daddy; I know what I'm after." Gaav spared him a smile, and then his youngest was halfway to the door and swaggering as a rather peculiar specimen came through.
"I hope I'm not late," the specimen said in a hushed and somewhat nasal voice. "My dragon got caught in a crosswind."
His hair looked like it.
When Valgaav had finished introducing the chimera around (Xellos had an oddly whimsical air as he bowed over the boy's hand, but then, when didn't he?), Gaav subtly hinted, "Zelas, if you and your brothers will attend to that vital matter you were speaking of, I will speak with Mr. Greyweir."
"Right away, Daddy," Valgaav said, tugging Zelas out by the arm.
Before the door closed behind her, Zelas drawled, "I'm sure we would all die of ennui without vital matters to attend to."
Gaav smirked with satisfaction at the obedience of his children, turned to face the chimera, and realized that Xellos was sprawled all over the couch and turning to the crossword. He scowled. "You have something to do," he said.
"Who, me? Can't think of a thing," Xellos chirped sweetly, and plucked a pen out of the air.
The chimera was smiling at Xellos as though he had expected such behavior. Gaav scowled further, then wiped his face more or less clean and turned to face his son's intended. "We're having very warm weather for the time of year," he said gruffly. "It hasn't snowed yet."
"I like snow," Greyweir commented. "That's why I went to Mipross."
For lack of anything better to say, and having the same sinking feeling he often got when his middle son was really determined to have something out, he said, "My son's just come back from there."
"I know," the boy smirked.
He scowled. Again. "Do you have business on the shore, Mr. Greyweir?"
"In association with Mr. Rodimus," he explained.
"I know him. An old Lyzeillian family."
"Yes, sir. His family have been retainers to my family for years. But he has a better head for accounts than my grandfather, and more experience than I have--I'm twenty--so in this modern age he's become something of a senior partner at our lab. We're from Atlas City."
"I used to know people in Atlas City. The Calverts?"
"No; we don't have much of a draconian market."
"Mr. Diol?"
"I'm afraid not. Grandfather says he engages in clone-abuse and isn't nice to know."
Gaav's eye narrowed. "The Xain organization? It's run by a Mr. Galev."
"Taking over the world really isn't our line..."
"Shutaindolf?"
"Wasn't he a vampire? I think my History of Magic professor killed him. But I never met him personally."
Twitch. "Zoom the assassin?"
The boy sighed. "Mr. Rubyeye, my grandfather was a minor priest of Ceiphied who went around healing other blind people and accidentally causing small towns to blow up until they promoted him to the Great Shrine and set him to research to get him out of the way. He married an apothecary. My parents were bakers, and had both died of clogged arteries by the time I was twelve."
"How sad," Gaav said, a little wistfully. He was always busy with grand- scale things like battlefields, and never got to taste any of the more delicate emotions. Although the cook was really good at pain, fear, despair, hatred, and the other good, solid plowman's fare that mazoku thrived on, he occasionally regretted a lifestyle that kept him away from desserts.
"It was sad," Greyweir agreed, a little annoyed. That was nice. Not as tasty as sorrow, but still, good for a light snack. "Grandfather wasn't really able to support the lab, although of course the temple made sure we had enough to eat, so I started doing odd jobs when I wasn't helping him. A little busking and bar-work here and there, carrying people's bags from the coach platform or the market, some housebreaking. Things like that. I got a partial scholarship to the University of Sailoon. By that time, Grandfather had given Mr. Rodimus permission to run an expedition-planning and guiding company to supplement what he brought in through the lab, so I was able to earn the rest of my tuition working for him."
"Very admirable," Gaav choked out. At least the housebreaking was respectable.
"No, it was just the only job I could get. This had happened by then," he explained patiently, spreading his blue hands for inspection, "and there aren't a lot of humans willing to hire a twenty-stone blue demonic creature with hair that could shred the merchendise. Besides, there's a lot you can learn on the road that they don't teach in Sailoon. Was there anything else, sir?"
Pulled out of faintly horrified gloom by the query, Gaav, who hadn't really been listening but prided himself on being more or less polite to the meat, said, "I beg your pardon?"
"I should think!" Xellos said from the depths of the crossword, with great satisfaction and slow emphasis.
The chimera spoke before he could torch his disrespectful offspring. "I said, was there anything else you wanted to know. No? Then do you give permission?"
"To what?" he asked hopelessly. This was exactly why he tried to avoid prolonged conversation with Xellos. He always knew exactly where the conversation would end up, and there was never anything he could do about it.
"To my marriage with Val."
"Why, Mr. Greyweir," he sighed in resignation, slumped in his chair and seriously considering beating himself to death with the photo album, "this is a complete surprise to me. I don't know what to say."
"I wouldn't mind if you said yes."
Well, at least the kid had spirit, unlike his sly milksop of a son. And good taste. Letting out a "Haw!" and sitting up straighter, he said, "I'm sure you wouldn't. But I'm sure you understand that Valgaav's marriage is a matter I do not intend to take lightly, or to rush into. Some discrimination is called for."
"I see that," the boy allowed, "but there's a difficulty. Val intends to get married next Wednesday, and I quite agree with him."
"We'll see about that," he said grimly.
"May I ask how we'll see, exactly?" Greyweir insisted.
Not afraid to stand up to him, either. But this had gone on long enough, and negotiation was far from his strong point, anyway. Resorting to his habitual bluntness, he began, "I don't know you at all, Mr. Greyweir, and-- "
"That's easily fixed," he interrupted stubbornly. "I'll give you every opportunity--after all, I'd like to get to know my future father-in-law, as well. How about lunch tomorrow?"
"That's very short notice, Mr. Greyweir. Make it Saturday."
"Oh, I'm going to be in Sairaag on business until next week. It had better be tomorrow."
He waved a hand. "Discuss it with my butler." He sent out a silent general summons, and had as a result the satisfaction of making Xellos jerk like a landed fish and drop the newspaper. His other children appeared behind the door and came through it. He smiled benevolently again, was gratified by seeing the blue boy's eyes widen in momentarily ill-contained revulsion, and said, "Ah, Zelas, Valgaav. Is dinner ready?"
The chimera looked at his watch in confusion, reinforcing his low-class background, and Xellos mouthed the word 'lunch' at him. Looking a little long-suffering, the boy pressed, "If you'd care to speak with Mr. Rodimus, I think he might have a few good things to say about me. I'm really very capable, and your son and I get on very well, which although not difficult in the least on my part is probably the best thing I can say for myself, except that I think we have an excellent chance of an excellent future together."
"Me, too," agreed Valgaav who, having come up beside him during this speech, was snuggling him in a manner which rather annoyed his father.
"You know you can't say no to Vally," Xellos insinuated. "You may as well get it over with and give in like a benevolent daddy-darlingest."
Gaav looked at him, irritated. "Valgaav--all three of you, for that matter- -will be married on the day and to the persons I name, and the decision is much too important to be made lightly."
"Persons?" Zelas asked, looking interested. "Plural?
"But next Wednesday," Val pressed.
"Next Wednesday is out of the question."
Zoemelguster banged once on the massive doors, then appeared at Gaav's elbow and murmured, "Dinner is prepared," before discreetly vanishing.
Blue boy stared at the place where he'd been, and started, "Does--"
"Dinner, Mr. Blackbeard!" Gaav bellowed, whipping his head around to look at him.
And something was wrong. Not only was the chimera sadly unintimidated, but there was something off about him. About his attire. What was it?
"That's a very familiar looking hilt," he noted, a little off balance.
"It's a very nice sword," the chimera agreed without the faintest hint of modesty.
"Perhaps we share a swordsmith. I sometimes patronize--"
"Oh, no, sir," the boy forestalled him, entirely unashamed. "The fact is," he said, pulling it out for inspection, "it's your sword. Zelas thought it would bring me luck."
Gaav stared at him for a moment in pure disbelief, then let his head fall back and roared with laughter. He'd thought for decades that his family could use an injection of backbone.
^w^ ^w^ ^w^ ^w^
One of the advantages of having married an infinitesimal woman, Gaav reflected that evening when Valgaav had set down the jug of bloodwine the crossover shop sent over every week as tribute on the little table and clambered up, was that the children never got too big to sit on his lap.
"I just saw Mr. Rodimus leave," his son said, pouring him a stein. If Val's hands lacked his brother's perfectly adept grace of motion and even his sister's casual elegance, they were guided by a willingness almost too fervent in its sincerity, and that was more than something, that was a great deal. "Have a good talk?"
"Yes," Gaav said, and almost smiled, pleased to see a little persistency even in an unwelcome subject.
"Well?"
"You're too young for such a long step."
Valgaav made a noise bordering on disrespectful. "Oh, come on, Daddy, you and Mother were younger than us when you got married."
"Neither your mother nor I were contaminated by the blood of any lesser species. Or, I may say, any undesirable relations."
"You only say that because you haven't seen him fight yet. He's nasty," Val confided with delicious approval, and added matter-of-factly, "Besides, if it doesn't work out I can always feed his heart to Zelly. But he'll do well. I know it."
"That is unquestionable. Mr. Rodimus speaks well of his foresight and levelheadedness, and I have myself observed a mitigating talent for expediency."
"Then it's okay?"
Gaav looked at him for a moment. His wife's witty brevity did not come easily, and this was a difficult concept to express without offending his son on his boyfriend's behalf. "Do you see this?"
"What, the bloodwine? Yeah...?"
"My son perfected the recipe, subject to my approval. I know that when properly prepared it will be endowed with the correct flavor, texture, and consistency.
"The fruit it is made with was picked in the orchards of villages I have conquered, under the supervision of a series of overseers who are owned by me. I know that this fruit was picked and used at the proper moment in its life, and transported and stored with care.
"The blood used in it was drained by my soldiers from humans killed by them and selected by my daughter. I know that it will have been fresh and pure at the moment of its use, untainted by virus, bacterium, bile, or any other undesirable substance, preserved in such a manner that will not affect its flavor or substance, and transported and stored with due regard for its value.
"It was made and bottled in a shop in whose founding company I hold controlling interest, and which I have ensured terrorized to the point of proper respect, and it is offered me as a tribute. I know that the clerks who prepare and ship it would not dare to offend me by offering inferior quality, and thus I know that it is prepared correctly, and therefore, that it will be of the proper flavor, texture, and consistency.
"I have been drinking this wine for four hundred years. I know that I will enjoy it, and that it will burn smoothly and pleasantly. Above all, since it is tested by one most loyal to me, I know that it will never cause me a moment's indigestion, let alone poison me."
"And you think Zel might give you indigestion?"
Gaav frowned. "There's a spirit of interspecies cooperation running about the world today. Elves singing with humans. Humans eating with dragons. Dragons talking with Mazoku without so much as a smoking ruin of a city to show for it. This sort of harmony is disagreeable to me."
"He'll burn, Daddy," Valgaav said comfortingly. "Smooth and sharp and hot."
He scowled. "It's only your future I'm thinking of."
"I know myself nearly as well as you do," Val assured him. "I know what I want."
With a sigh, Gaav gave up. He nearly got strangled for his trouble, when Val squirmed around on his lap and glomped him, but that was all right.
"Thank you! Can we announce it at Midwinter?"
"I shall arrange a party," agreed his father, waving a large hand to show that his will would be done.
"Oh, great!" With an uneasy glance at the heating grate, never used because fires were much more luxurious, Val said, "Oh, wait, damn. Xel said something about wanting to give a party." He leaned in close to his father's ear, and whispered, "One of his notions."
From the uncomfortable look on Val's face, Gaav could guess what this party of his eldest's would look like if it were permitted to occur. He shuddered internally, and reassured his son, also in a whisper due to the hint of dark smoke behind the grate. "You and I know how to deal with Xellos's notions."
"It was thoughtful of him..."
"Your brother can be extremely thoughtful. In his own peculiar fashion." He raised his voice. "You may stop eavesdropping, Xellos."
The pointy tip of smoke-like substance poured shamelessly out of the grate in a dark whirlwind. When it reached the floor, it coalesced into his son, who was, as usual, overexcited. "It's yes, then?" He bounced gleefully and without dignity on his toes, pulled a couple of glasses out of the air, tossed one carelessly to Valgaav, and dove for the jug.
"Careful," cautioned Gaav. Since he was very hard put to it to be annoyed with one son's pleasure in the other's good fortune, it came out more benevolently than he would have preferred. "You'll spill my wine!"
"What a shame that your mind should be occupied with such trivial details as beverages on a night like this!" Xellos scolded happily, but drank his glass anyway. "This is wonderful! Have you told Zel yet?"
"Well, no," Val said, rolling his eyes. "Obviously."
"Go call him right now!" He hauled Valgaav out of his father's lap by main force and started propelling him around the bonfire pits to the door. "Let's go hunt some dragons to celebrate! No, that's wrong, not for something like this... I know! Let's bring the trapeze up to the roof and turn on the lights and give everyone a show!"
Over his shoulder, he called, "Mommy would be so proud of you, Father! She'd have loved him! And don't worry about the party, I've got it all planned out. No stuffed shirts, no black silk cloaks with red lining, no engraved invitations..."
^w^ ^w^ ^w^ ^w^
__________________________________________
( (** Dark Lord Gaav Rubyeye, Chaos Dragon **) )
( (** commands the tribute of your attendance **) )
( (***** on the evening of the Long Night ******) )
( (************ at 10:30 o'clock. ************) )
(_(______________________________________)_)
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[end part nine]
Notes: In which the question of Zel's fitness to marry into the legion of Eeeevil is settled. Next post--let the games begin. ^________^
^w^ ^w^ ^w^ ^w^
Holiday
by Nightfall Rising
part nine
^w^ ^w^ ^w^ ^w^
The doors creaked open, and the butler appeared, saying, "Mr. Greyweir wishes to be announced."
"You all have things to do," Gaav ordered. "Decide what they are and go do them."
As his elder children looked at one another in annoyance, Val pushed up a little and quietly said, "Just remember, Daddy; I know what I'm after." Gaav spared him a smile, and then his youngest was halfway to the door and swaggering as a rather peculiar specimen came through.
"I hope I'm not late," the specimen said in a hushed and somewhat nasal voice. "My dragon got caught in a crosswind."
His hair looked like it.
When Valgaav had finished introducing the chimera around (Xellos had an oddly whimsical air as he bowed over the boy's hand, but then, when didn't he?), Gaav subtly hinted, "Zelas, if you and your brothers will attend to that vital matter you were speaking of, I will speak with Mr. Greyweir."
"Right away, Daddy," Valgaav said, tugging Zelas out by the arm.
Before the door closed behind her, Zelas drawled, "I'm sure we would all die of ennui without vital matters to attend to."
Gaav smirked with satisfaction at the obedience of his children, turned to face the chimera, and realized that Xellos was sprawled all over the couch and turning to the crossword. He scowled. "You have something to do," he said.
"Who, me? Can't think of a thing," Xellos chirped sweetly, and plucked a pen out of the air.
The chimera was smiling at Xellos as though he had expected such behavior. Gaav scowled further, then wiped his face more or less clean and turned to face his son's intended. "We're having very warm weather for the time of year," he said gruffly. "It hasn't snowed yet."
"I like snow," Greyweir commented. "That's why I went to Mipross."
For lack of anything better to say, and having the same sinking feeling he often got when his middle son was really determined to have something out, he said, "My son's just come back from there."
"I know," the boy smirked.
He scowled. Again. "Do you have business on the shore, Mr. Greyweir?"
"In association with Mr. Rodimus," he explained.
"I know him. An old Lyzeillian family."
"Yes, sir. His family have been retainers to my family for years. But he has a better head for accounts than my grandfather, and more experience than I have--I'm twenty--so in this modern age he's become something of a senior partner at our lab. We're from Atlas City."
"I used to know people in Atlas City. The Calverts?"
"No; we don't have much of a draconian market."
"Mr. Diol?"
"I'm afraid not. Grandfather says he engages in clone-abuse and isn't nice to know."
Gaav's eye narrowed. "The Xain organization? It's run by a Mr. Galev."
"Taking over the world really isn't our line..."
"Shutaindolf?"
"Wasn't he a vampire? I think my History of Magic professor killed him. But I never met him personally."
Twitch. "Zoom the assassin?"
The boy sighed. "Mr. Rubyeye, my grandfather was a minor priest of Ceiphied who went around healing other blind people and accidentally causing small towns to blow up until they promoted him to the Great Shrine and set him to research to get him out of the way. He married an apothecary. My parents were bakers, and had both died of clogged arteries by the time I was twelve."
"How sad," Gaav said, a little wistfully. He was always busy with grand- scale things like battlefields, and never got to taste any of the more delicate emotions. Although the cook was really good at pain, fear, despair, hatred, and the other good, solid plowman's fare that mazoku thrived on, he occasionally regretted a lifestyle that kept him away from desserts.
"It was sad," Greyweir agreed, a little annoyed. That was nice. Not as tasty as sorrow, but still, good for a light snack. "Grandfather wasn't really able to support the lab, although of course the temple made sure we had enough to eat, so I started doing odd jobs when I wasn't helping him. A little busking and bar-work here and there, carrying people's bags from the coach platform or the market, some housebreaking. Things like that. I got a partial scholarship to the University of Sailoon. By that time, Grandfather had given Mr. Rodimus permission to run an expedition-planning and guiding company to supplement what he brought in through the lab, so I was able to earn the rest of my tuition working for him."
"Very admirable," Gaav choked out. At least the housebreaking was respectable.
"No, it was just the only job I could get. This had happened by then," he explained patiently, spreading his blue hands for inspection, "and there aren't a lot of humans willing to hire a twenty-stone blue demonic creature with hair that could shred the merchendise. Besides, there's a lot you can learn on the road that they don't teach in Sailoon. Was there anything else, sir?"
Pulled out of faintly horrified gloom by the query, Gaav, who hadn't really been listening but prided himself on being more or less polite to the meat, said, "I beg your pardon?"
"I should think!" Xellos said from the depths of the crossword, with great satisfaction and slow emphasis.
The chimera spoke before he could torch his disrespectful offspring. "I said, was there anything else you wanted to know. No? Then do you give permission?"
"To what?" he asked hopelessly. This was exactly why he tried to avoid prolonged conversation with Xellos. He always knew exactly where the conversation would end up, and there was never anything he could do about it.
"To my marriage with Val."
"Why, Mr. Greyweir," he sighed in resignation, slumped in his chair and seriously considering beating himself to death with the photo album, "this is a complete surprise to me. I don't know what to say."
"I wouldn't mind if you said yes."
Well, at least the kid had spirit, unlike his sly milksop of a son. And good taste. Letting out a "Haw!" and sitting up straighter, he said, "I'm sure you wouldn't. But I'm sure you understand that Valgaav's marriage is a matter I do not intend to take lightly, or to rush into. Some discrimination is called for."
"I see that," the boy allowed, "but there's a difficulty. Val intends to get married next Wednesday, and I quite agree with him."
"We'll see about that," he said grimly.
"May I ask how we'll see, exactly?" Greyweir insisted.
Not afraid to stand up to him, either. But this had gone on long enough, and negotiation was far from his strong point, anyway. Resorting to his habitual bluntness, he began, "I don't know you at all, Mr. Greyweir, and-- "
"That's easily fixed," he interrupted stubbornly. "I'll give you every opportunity--after all, I'd like to get to know my future father-in-law, as well. How about lunch tomorrow?"
"That's very short notice, Mr. Greyweir. Make it Saturday."
"Oh, I'm going to be in Sairaag on business until next week. It had better be tomorrow."
He waved a hand. "Discuss it with my butler." He sent out a silent general summons, and had as a result the satisfaction of making Xellos jerk like a landed fish and drop the newspaper. His other children appeared behind the door and came through it. He smiled benevolently again, was gratified by seeing the blue boy's eyes widen in momentarily ill-contained revulsion, and said, "Ah, Zelas, Valgaav. Is dinner ready?"
The chimera looked at his watch in confusion, reinforcing his low-class background, and Xellos mouthed the word 'lunch' at him. Looking a little long-suffering, the boy pressed, "If you'd care to speak with Mr. Rodimus, I think he might have a few good things to say about me. I'm really very capable, and your son and I get on very well, which although not difficult in the least on my part is probably the best thing I can say for myself, except that I think we have an excellent chance of an excellent future together."
"Me, too," agreed Valgaav who, having come up beside him during this speech, was snuggling him in a manner which rather annoyed his father.
"You know you can't say no to Vally," Xellos insinuated. "You may as well get it over with and give in like a benevolent daddy-darlingest."
Gaav looked at him, irritated. "Valgaav--all three of you, for that matter- -will be married on the day and to the persons I name, and the decision is much too important to be made lightly."
"Persons?" Zelas asked, looking interested. "Plural?
"But next Wednesday," Val pressed.
"Next Wednesday is out of the question."
Zoemelguster banged once on the massive doors, then appeared at Gaav's elbow and murmured, "Dinner is prepared," before discreetly vanishing.
Blue boy stared at the place where he'd been, and started, "Does--"
"Dinner, Mr. Blackbeard!" Gaav bellowed, whipping his head around to look at him.
And something was wrong. Not only was the chimera sadly unintimidated, but there was something off about him. About his attire. What was it?
"That's a very familiar looking hilt," he noted, a little off balance.
"It's a very nice sword," the chimera agreed without the faintest hint of modesty.
"Perhaps we share a swordsmith. I sometimes patronize--"
"Oh, no, sir," the boy forestalled him, entirely unashamed. "The fact is," he said, pulling it out for inspection, "it's your sword. Zelas thought it would bring me luck."
Gaav stared at him for a moment in pure disbelief, then let his head fall back and roared with laughter. He'd thought for decades that his family could use an injection of backbone.
^w^ ^w^ ^w^ ^w^
One of the advantages of having married an infinitesimal woman, Gaav reflected that evening when Valgaav had set down the jug of bloodwine the crossover shop sent over every week as tribute on the little table and clambered up, was that the children never got too big to sit on his lap.
"I just saw Mr. Rodimus leave," his son said, pouring him a stein. If Val's hands lacked his brother's perfectly adept grace of motion and even his sister's casual elegance, they were guided by a willingness almost too fervent in its sincerity, and that was more than something, that was a great deal. "Have a good talk?"
"Yes," Gaav said, and almost smiled, pleased to see a little persistency even in an unwelcome subject.
"Well?"
"You're too young for such a long step."
Valgaav made a noise bordering on disrespectful. "Oh, come on, Daddy, you and Mother were younger than us when you got married."
"Neither your mother nor I were contaminated by the blood of any lesser species. Or, I may say, any undesirable relations."
"You only say that because you haven't seen him fight yet. He's nasty," Val confided with delicious approval, and added matter-of-factly, "Besides, if it doesn't work out I can always feed his heart to Zelly. But he'll do well. I know it."
"That is unquestionable. Mr. Rodimus speaks well of his foresight and levelheadedness, and I have myself observed a mitigating talent for expediency."
"Then it's okay?"
Gaav looked at him for a moment. His wife's witty brevity did not come easily, and this was a difficult concept to express without offending his son on his boyfriend's behalf. "Do you see this?"
"What, the bloodwine? Yeah...?"
"My son perfected the recipe, subject to my approval. I know that when properly prepared it will be endowed with the correct flavor, texture, and consistency.
"The fruit it is made with was picked in the orchards of villages I have conquered, under the supervision of a series of overseers who are owned by me. I know that this fruit was picked and used at the proper moment in its life, and transported and stored with care.
"The blood used in it was drained by my soldiers from humans killed by them and selected by my daughter. I know that it will have been fresh and pure at the moment of its use, untainted by virus, bacterium, bile, or any other undesirable substance, preserved in such a manner that will not affect its flavor or substance, and transported and stored with due regard for its value.
"It was made and bottled in a shop in whose founding company I hold controlling interest, and which I have ensured terrorized to the point of proper respect, and it is offered me as a tribute. I know that the clerks who prepare and ship it would not dare to offend me by offering inferior quality, and thus I know that it is prepared correctly, and therefore, that it will be of the proper flavor, texture, and consistency.
"I have been drinking this wine for four hundred years. I know that I will enjoy it, and that it will burn smoothly and pleasantly. Above all, since it is tested by one most loyal to me, I know that it will never cause me a moment's indigestion, let alone poison me."
"And you think Zel might give you indigestion?"
Gaav frowned. "There's a spirit of interspecies cooperation running about the world today. Elves singing with humans. Humans eating with dragons. Dragons talking with Mazoku without so much as a smoking ruin of a city to show for it. This sort of harmony is disagreeable to me."
"He'll burn, Daddy," Valgaav said comfortingly. "Smooth and sharp and hot."
He scowled. "It's only your future I'm thinking of."
"I know myself nearly as well as you do," Val assured him. "I know what I want."
With a sigh, Gaav gave up. He nearly got strangled for his trouble, when Val squirmed around on his lap and glomped him, but that was all right.
"Thank you! Can we announce it at Midwinter?"
"I shall arrange a party," agreed his father, waving a large hand to show that his will would be done.
"Oh, great!" With an uneasy glance at the heating grate, never used because fires were much more luxurious, Val said, "Oh, wait, damn. Xel said something about wanting to give a party." He leaned in close to his father's ear, and whispered, "One of his notions."
From the uncomfortable look on Val's face, Gaav could guess what this party of his eldest's would look like if it were permitted to occur. He shuddered internally, and reassured his son, also in a whisper due to the hint of dark smoke behind the grate. "You and I know how to deal with Xellos's notions."
"It was thoughtful of him..."
"Your brother can be extremely thoughtful. In his own peculiar fashion." He raised his voice. "You may stop eavesdropping, Xellos."
The pointy tip of smoke-like substance poured shamelessly out of the grate in a dark whirlwind. When it reached the floor, it coalesced into his son, who was, as usual, overexcited. "It's yes, then?" He bounced gleefully and without dignity on his toes, pulled a couple of glasses out of the air, tossed one carelessly to Valgaav, and dove for the jug.
"Careful," cautioned Gaav. Since he was very hard put to it to be annoyed with one son's pleasure in the other's good fortune, it came out more benevolently than he would have preferred. "You'll spill my wine!"
"What a shame that your mind should be occupied with such trivial details as beverages on a night like this!" Xellos scolded happily, but drank his glass anyway. "This is wonderful! Have you told Zel yet?"
"Well, no," Val said, rolling his eyes. "Obviously."
"Go call him right now!" He hauled Valgaav out of his father's lap by main force and started propelling him around the bonfire pits to the door. "Let's go hunt some dragons to celebrate! No, that's wrong, not for something like this... I know! Let's bring the trapeze up to the roof and turn on the lights and give everyone a show!"
Over his shoulder, he called, "Mommy would be so proud of you, Father! She'd have loved him! And don't worry about the party, I've got it all planned out. No stuffed shirts, no black silk cloaks with red lining, no engraved invitations..."
^w^ ^w^ ^w^ ^w^
__________________________________________
( (** Dark Lord Gaav Rubyeye, Chaos Dragon **) )
( (** commands the tribute of your attendance **) )
( (***** on the evening of the Long Night ******) )
( (************ at 10:30 o'clock. ************) )
(_(______________________________________)_)
^w^ ^w^ ^w^ ^w^
[end part nine]