I wasn't planning on doing much in modern Tortall, but once again my story is getting away from me. As always, reviews are very much appreciated.
Thom fiddled with his wine glass irritably. He ought to be happy; for once his mother wasn't out risking her fool neck, chasing after ogres or fighting gods. Instead, she was quite contentedly living in the southern desert with the tribe, acting for all the world like some Bazhir's grandmother. One account even had her weaving rugs for her study at Olau. And, of course, writing that book of hers. She was happy, that was the important thing. And yet… he did sometimes wish she would go quietly into retirement. Though it might seem to those that didn't know her she was doing exactly that, Thom knew this for the calm before the storm. Alanna was going to set Tortall on its head at least once more.
He wouldn't have minded so much, perhaps, if everyone had just accepted that his mother was the sort of once in a hundred years freak that just tended to set the world on its ear. The problem was, they didn't, and they kept expecting something brilliant of Thom. It didn't help that his little sister had orchestrated a rebellion in the Copper Isles that put an end to slavery and a centuries-long feud. He'd tried mentioning to Alan, but his brother didn't even notice the problem.
But then, Thom thought bitterly, Alan had always taken after Raoul far more than either of his parents. Alanna was notoriously high-strung; George could be easy going, but was still an active, adventuresome, and above all busy man. Alan had to be the most easygoing man alive, and people had just accepted it, and all but forgotten that he was the son of the famed Lioness.
Whereas they never seemed to forget it when it came to Thom himself. Every time he made a waspish comment, every time he did a big working, every time there was a hint of a rebellion somewhere far away, people looked at him uneasily. It didn't even seem to matter anymore that his uncle, with whom he shared his name, had had no part in the plots leading up to King Jonathan's coronation. It was enough that the man had been a powerful mage (far more powerful than Thom himself could ever hope to be, though he admitted that to no one), and had raised the dead. Not for the first time Thom found himself wishing that his mother had never changed places with her twin those fifty years ago. He quashed the thought irritably. Alanna had been destined to do great things, and she'd done them, and he was proud of her. He just wished, sometimes, that people would be more understanding when he didn't follow her to greatness.
"Are you alright, dear?" his wife asked anxiously.
He tried to smile at her. She was a good woman, if unexciting. He'd married her because she was nice enough, and pretty enough, and they got along well enough, and she'd married him because he was rich enough, kind enough, and well enough connected. It had not been a brilliant match politically, nor a scandalous one. They had not married for undying passion, or against great odds. And that sort of mediocrity had lasted through all the years of their marriage. She'd borne him four children, who all took after their mother in being just slightly on the better side of completely ordinary. If he'd been willing to admit it to himself, Thom would have said he was jealous of his mother's exciting life.
"Thom, darling," his wife said, interrupting his reverie again.
"Yes, Marilynne?" he asked, tiredly. They'd made it through ten years of marriage , because he had never listened closely enough to what she was saying to be annoyed by it, and she in return had pretended not to notice his sullen, brooding silences and odd moods.
"Who inherits Olau?" Now why would she…? He wondered, before realization hit. Of course. She had been visiting with Jocasta of Runnerspring the other day. She always had these bouts of ambitions after visiting one of her friends who, though from a less-well connected and influential family, all seemed to be doing well for themselves. It was near enough to make him sick. Jocasta had married Garvey when no one else would, and there had begun to be talk of the fief passing to a nephew or niece instead of the heir's own child. She had wanted the wealth, and cared not at all for the curse that was said to be attached to Garvey after he survived the Ordeal of Knighthood when one of his friends went near to mad, and the other died in the Chamber.
"Aly," he said simply. He would have thought it obvious: his mother had held Olau and Trebond, his father had been Baron of Pirates Swoop. Now the Swoop had passed to him, and Trebond to Alan. Aly, being in the Copper Isles still with her husband, would gain Olau when their parents were done with it, and she would probably retire there, or pass it on to her own children immediately. Thom had sometimes, when he was little, imagined himself master of Olau, but now that he was grown, he could not imagine living anywhere but the Swoop. But Marilynne was ambitious…
"Oh, but surely she won't be coming back to it, not after all these years. And little Josep," she added, naming their three year old son, "I would hate to leave him without any inheritance."
"So you'd rather he had my sister's?" Thom asked, for once really listening to her. She seemed to miss how cold his voice had suddenly gone.
"I'm only looking out for our children, dearest." Once he had thought it cute when she pouted; now it only annoyed him.
"I'm sure."