Yozak bit back a groan as he swung up into Jissa's saddle. He'd spent the last week in the care of the Healer at Ashkevron manor along with Koren. Today they were finally setting out on their circuit again. His ribs still ached from the bruises, but at least they were no longer broken. Koren's wounds were healed, just as Jissa's and Mandy's were, but that was the difference in lacerations, bruises, abrasions and six broken ribs.
He glanced over at Koren as they set out. He was bored, and they were now a week behind schedule, so they might as well make small talk. "You told me once that you were the oldest out of five children, and that when you were Chosen you were lost and wandering by the side of the road. If you don't mind my asking how did you get there?"
Koren sighed. "As you know, I was 12 when Mandy Chose me and I tried to convince her that I wasn't worthy of being Chosen. Obviously, she didn't listen to me. What I didn't tell you is that I . . . I have a bit of an irrational fear of water."
"Wait, you're afraid of water and they're sending us up to Lake Evindim. Am I the only one who sees the problem here?" Yozak interjected.
Koren gave him a weak smile. "I'm not as bad as I once was. Sherrel and Keren taught me how to swim when I first came to the Collegium nearly 18 years ago. I could always swim a little, and Talia's still working with me on it now. I'm not phobic, not anymore, I . . . I just have a bit of an unhealthy respect for the stuff."
Yozak inclined his head, and bit back his customary witty retort—it would be out of place here.
"When I was 10, I- I watched my baby sister Andrea, drown. She was six-years-old, and a bit of a tomboy. Really it wasn't all that surprising, not when she was the only girl. Andrew never forgave me for letting her drown. Not that I blame him, he was only six and he was simply reacting to Father. Anyway, I'd been goofing off with my younger brothers, and Alexander dared me to attempt to swim the river. Foolishly I accepted the challenge and tried it. But it was spring and the river was colder and deeper than normal. Despite how calm the water looked, the current was far too strong. I'd never been the best swimmer, and I'd developed a fear of the stuff two years prior when one of the village boys held me under. I remember fighting for each breath, and screaming for my brothers. Andrew went for our father but Alexander and Marcus just stood there. I don't know what she was thinking, but Andrea, she came in after me. We washed ashore about a mile downstream. I survived – she didn't." Koren was looking down at the crest of Mandy's neck as he spoke.
After a moment he continued. "Our- our father was furious. He, he blamed me for her death; I know he was wrong now, but then – I couldn't live with myself. Living with four people who believed you responsible for the death of your little sister and who shared that belief with the other villagers was hard, I often thought of running away. Mother kept telling me it wasn't my fault, and for a while I believed her, and was never far from her side. But then there was a bandit raid the summer after and my mother was injured. My father blamed me for that too; he said I was cursed, 'brought bad luck to the family'. He was convinced that if I didn't leave I'd get someone else killed. So I left, in the middle of the night with nothing but the clothing on my back and a small knife, and he didn't even try to stop me. I was wandering alone for five and a half months when Mandy found me and gave me a home."
Yozak didn't know what to say. Somehow 'I'm sorry' just didn't feel appropriate.
~~~***~~~
Conrart sighed as he walked through the Vale. In the week and a half since he'd been here, he'd had no less than 16 propositions from persons of both genders. He was no stranger to the concept of same sex pairings, but he had to admit the idea of multiple participants was not something he was entirely comfortable with. He was very glad Darkwind and Elspeth had been thorough in their lessons. He shuddered to think of the problems that would have arisen had he not known that the gift of a feather was an invitation to participate in exercises of the carnal nature.
The gift of a flower meant the same thing.
It was interesting work serving as an Envoy to the clans, but it was nothing he couldn't handle, and for now he was more of an observer anyway. Holly handled almost everything while he watched, waited, learned, and at times held his tongue. She gave him odd things to do, small tasks embarrassingly similar to things he executed flawlessly as a small child.
It was the way of things.
At the beginning of a Herald's internship ride, his councilor handled almost everything since they were the one with all the practical experience. Ironically enough in this case, he was the one with more experience, both practical and probable. Holly would have to live at least two life times and be born a high ranked noble to have the same amount of experience as he did.
Yet he held his tongue, refusing to undermine her authority by questioning her judgment and methods. He did ask her for her reasoning behind closed doors, listened to her arguments, asked for clarification, and eloquently suggested modifications to her methods. His relationship with Holly was an odd one; they didn't exactly mesh, but they were Heralds, so they managed to get along.
So now he was walking through the Vale, lost in his thoughts about the last round of diplomatic debates that Holly had insisted he observe. For now he was supposed to reflect on her actions and inform her of what she had done and the reasons why he suspected she'd done it, in addition to what he would have done differently and why. The latter was truly the easier of the two questions, and it was the second half of the first that he was currently contemplating. Why that woman did what she did this afternoon, was as much a mystery to him as exactly how Anissina had managed to turn him green when he only 30.
A small, slightly high pitched mindvoice caught his attention, and it took him a moment to realize he was hearing a bondbird, and a moment longer to realize that it was a very young bondbird.
:I Not Weak! : The voice snapped angrily.
He paused and looked around before continuing on, trying to shield out the little voice and the three jeering ones that accompanied it. Children would be children after all, and in this case he guessed fledglings would be fledglings.
: Albino weak. : A second male voice jeered. : Weak,: the other two voices, one male and one female, chorused.
The first voice was back, full of sorrow, pain and a stubbornness that Conrart recognized from his own childhood. : Not weak! Not Albino, White! :
He looked around trying to find the little bird, hoping to give comfort and help in some small way. However, all he could figure out was that the bird was somewhere up. He called to the little birds to leave their, friend (?), nest mate (?), sibling(?), alone but they either didn't hear him or ignored him.
:Never fly,: the first and strongest of the male voice's jeered. : Never bond, never mate. Albino, weak. Not see second year. :
: Weak, never fly,: the other two voices jeered in an idiotic echo.
Defiance laced the mental voice of the first bondbird. : Can too fly! : The little bird all but shouted.
Conrart braced himself as his vision swam and his foresight washed over him.
~ A small body covered in white fuzzy down feathers fell to the ground, where it lay broken against a rock at the base of a tree ~
Conrart winced and started desperately trying to figure out exactly where the little voices were coming from. This wasn't going to end well.
The strongest of the voices, the male, echoed in his mental ear. : Prove it,: the little bird replied simply.
: Prove : the other two mimicked.
The first voice radiated defiance and a deep need to prove itself that was all too familiar as it replied with a single word. : Fine.:
A small white form, hardly larger then a baseball, plummeted from the canopy above; its small, scarcely feathered, white wings flapping desperately at the empty air. Without the aid of flight feathers, the little bird was doomed to its fate. The little thing called in terror as it realized its folly, frantically trying to catch the wind with wings covered in useless, short, and fluffy down.
Conrart reacted out of instinct. Cupping his hands as if to cradle the small chick, he reached out with his fetching gift and the little bird landed safely in his hands. He looked down at the small creature, and found himself gazing into a pair of enormous yellow eyes. An owl, he realized absently. Smiling lightly, he carefully stroked the little bird's head.
"Hello, little one." He cooed softly in his native tongue, the tone coming naturally to him, even as he backed his every word with Mindspeech and a soft flow of images. "You gave me quite a scare, you did." Unconsciously he began to gently scratch the small bird's head. "I'm afraid you're not old enough to fly yet, you need flight feathers, little one."
He staggered as something large landed on his shoulder. Sharp talons dug in as the owl attempted to steady itself. Once it was settled, its talons withdrew until the sharp tips just brushed his skin. He ignored the pain in favor of talking to the small chick in his hands. "You'll fly one day little one, and I'm sure you will own the sky, but that day has not yet come. Be safe little one, and dream of the open skies until then."
He turned his head slightly to look at the enormous owl perched on his shoulder, and recognized Riversong's bondbird. Conrart scrutinized the owl for a moment; it was the same size as an Eagle-owl, although he recognized the breed as a species of Hawk-owl called an Australian Boobook in Yuri's world, and a Mopoke, named for its call in Shin Makoku. In his world and Yuri's the owl was tiny, only about 10.5 inches with a wingspan of 25-33 inches for the female; the males were smaller. But this owl was at least 29 inches with a wingspan that he would guess to be about 5-6 feet. In addition to that the Mopoke was only supposed to weigh about 6-12 ounces; this bird weighed at least 90. This wasn't surprising, since bondbirds were several times larger than their normal counterparts.
"I'm guessing this little one is yours," he told the bird kindly, ignoring the blood running down his shoulder that stained his whites.
Cay gave him a grave look and then proceeded to hoot angrily at his errant offspring. After a moment, he launched himself off of Conrart's shoulder; carefully snagged the owlet that rested in the man's cupped hands, and disappeared into the trees with a few delicate well placed flaps.
Conrart smiled, seeing what the young bondbird would one day become. The little one had great spirit, and he knew that it would serve the little bird well in the years to come. She was sure to prosper in whatever path she chose. He knew she would grow up to be proud and strong. She wasn't an Albino; he knew little of owls, but he knew that much. Albinos had red eyes, and the little owlet's were a sharp piercing yellow. One day she would be a fine asset to any Tayledras who was lucky enough to bond with her.
: Ara.: The little owl said clearly into his mind. : I is Ara. :
: Am,: he corrected absently, completely unfazed by the fact that he was correcting a bird's speech.
Ara sent him a questioning feeling. :Am?: she asked.
Conrart smiled : It's 'I am Ara' not 'I is Ara.'.:
:Oh… I sorry,: Ara said quietly.
: Don't be, Ara. It is nice to meet you, little one. I am Conrart. :
Conrart blinked at the contented feeling that flowed to him from the little bird. It was distinctly odd; normally he didn't get emotions from anyone but Yozak and Vanyel. It was true sometimes he got emotions from others but only when he was in close proximity to Yozak. : Conrar, : Ara chirped quietly into his mind, before correcting herself as no other bird he'd ever met had. :Conrar, Conrarrt, Conrart… Conrart. : The satisfaction rolling off the little bird was immense. : One day, I fly for you. :
Conrart blinked, not understanding the determination in the little bird's mental voice. Nor did he understand why Cay immediately admonished her that she was too young to say such things. Although the immediate reply of : Am not.: amused him to no end.
: Good day and may you know only gentle winds, little one. : He replied simply, turning to leave.
Only to find himself face to face with Holly, Riversong, Firesong, and Silverfox. He blinked again, wondering when in the hell they'd gotten there. He was slipping, and that wasn't good. Never let your guard down, he reminded himself irritably. Or do you want a repeat of the incident with Gwilherm?
He was staggering, broken, battered and bloody through the streets of the capital city, trying to find a healer who would lower themselves enough to waste their services on a half-breed.
:CHOSEN!: Vanyel's voice pulled him forcibly out of the memory.
He didn't know when the stallion had come up beside him, but he was definitely glad for his Companion's presence. Closing his eyes, he leaned against Vanyel's strong shoulder, fighting the almost violent need to retch, his body shaking in remembered pain and terror. Vanyel brought his head around, pulling him closer in the equine equivalent of a warm hug.
Conrart melted into his Companion, feeling safe and warm against his side. They stayed like that for a second before they both pulled away. Sometime during his very short lived little trip down memory lane, Cay had landed on his bondmate's shoulder. The great owl simply stood there watching him, with a long slightly curved, rounded wing feather, three small marbled body feathers, and a few bits of white and silver down clasped lightly in his beak.
Riversong reached up and stroked the owl's breast before holding out his hand to receive the feathers Cay was holding. The bird dropped them into his hand, hooting encouragingly. The man nodded, shifted the feathers around so that he could clasp them all delicately between his thumb and forefinger without damaging them. It had the unintended effect of hiding the three smaller feathers and the down behind the larger wing feather. With a sigh, Riversong stepped forward and offered them to Conrart.
Alarmed, Conrart took a step back.
For one long minute Riversong simply stared at him, a perplexed expression on his face. Abruptly he laughed a deep throaty sound that rang in the still air between them. "This bears no meaning beyond that of thanks. This is Cay's thank you for the life of his little one. He is indebted to you, and says that should Ara still wish it when she is older he will abide by her choice."
Conrart blinked, not understanding what he meant by Ara's choice. He didn't know what to do, in some ways it was a gesture of thanks on Cay's part, but the cultural meaning behind the feather alarmed him. Still he didn't want to insult the Owl. Vanyel solved his problem for him. Sticking his nose into the small of his back the stallion shoved him forward. He stumbled, caught himself, took a deep breath and reminded himself that Riversong was not Gwilherm. Then he reached out and took the feathers from Riversong.
"You are quite welcome Cay; wind to your wings."
~~~***~~~
Firesong cocked his head to the side as he watched his little brother. He was well aware of the fact that Conrart was lifebonded – there was no denying it after the show the man had put on his first day with the clan. Silverfox had also seen to inform him that the boy was apparently refusing to acknowledge the existence of the lifebond. While that posed several problems, and tended to have strange side effects for the ones lifebonded, it didn't explain how Conrart reacted to people propositioning him for a night or an hour of pleasure.
It also didn't explain the way he reacted when Forestblade had grabbed his hips the other day. Granted, Forestblade was a fool who thought grabbing hold of his potential partner and grinding into them as he presented them with a flower was permissible. He'd been slapped from the vale all the way to Rethwellen for it, but it hadn't made an impression on him. Conrart however had made a very big impression on him… or rather of him in a tree 100 yards away.
The kid had one mean fetching gift.
He couldn't help but smile when Vanyel shoved the boy closer to Riversong. The idea came to him as he watched Conrart accept what looked like a single owl wing feather from the other man. It was the perfect way to make most people leave the boy alone, and since he was lifebonded it wouldn't even be much of a lie.
He took a step forward and stretched out a hand to Conrart. "Here, give them to me, little brother. I'll take them to the Hertasi, and ask them to make a nice hair ornament out of them for you." He didn't even have the time to tuck the feathers carefully away before a Hertasi he didn't recognize popped up at his elbow and disappeared again with the little bundle of feathers, tsking over Conrart's unadorned whites the entire time.
Shaking his head, he turned his attention back to his little brother. "When you get the hair ornament back, wear it. It will look like you are in a serious relationship and deter most people from propositioning you."
"Um… thanks." Conrart replied.
~~~***~~~
Riversong watched Holly's internee with mild interest, wondering just why sexual advances from either gender made him nervous. Truthfully he was curious as to exactly what the young man would sound like with that melodic tenor voice, raised in incoherent cries of ecstasy. What would he look like with that lithe body covered in the sweat of passion? But alas he'd seen just how badly the boy had reacted to being propositioned. After all, he had been present for the fiasco with that idiot Forestblade. He was also there when the young man had very gently turned down Firesong's young cousin Honeyfeather. The girl was an adult but it was quite clear – at least to Riversong - that she was still a child in Conrart's eyes. The boy seemed perfectly fine with how free and open their culture was about sex and sexuality - just so long as it didn't involve him.
He sighed, trying not to imagine that beautiful body sprawled spent beneath him. He closed his eyes briefly in an attempt to dislodge the thought from his mind and then noticed the spreading crimson stain on the shoulder of Conrart's Whites.
"You're bleeding," he told the man mildly.
Conrart shrugged his shoulders. "Shouga nai" he said simply.
~~~***~~~
Holly blinked when she heard that word come out of Conrart's mouth. There were certain words that she'd heard the young man mumble that she simply dismissed as her ears playing tricks on her. However there was no denying the fact that Conrart had just said 'Shouga nai' and said it very clearly. Shouga nai was a word in Mazoku-jin, which had no real equivalent word in the Valdemaran tongue. However, it roughly translated to 'what can you do?', 'nothing can be done', 'oh well', 'don't make such a big deal out of it' or 'deal with it'. It had a lot of possible translations, which were dependent on the inflection behind it. There was no way Conrart could have known it. Very few people in Valdemar knew even a few words of the tongue unless they were one of the four people who were part of Valdemar's original delegation to Shin Makoku. Well them and the two new trainees from Shin Makoku, but judging by how well the two were reported to have adapted they couldn't be very old.
She'd been one of the lucky four who'd been given the truly complicated language; she smiled at the memory of going to that strange new world in the company of Herald mage Elspeth, Adept Darkwind, and their small daughter. She then straightened up, shaking away the shock of having heard that complicated tongue fall from Conrart's lips.
She looked at the young man strangely. "What did you just say?" she asked after a second.
Conrart blinked. "Shouga nai." He replied simply. "Oh, sorry, it means -"
Holly cut him off, exasperated. "I know what it means," she said curtly. "What I want to know is how you know it?"
"It's my native tongue," he replied.
Holly stared at him for a moment before she found her tongue. "You're Mazoku?" she finally asked.
He smiled at her. "The last time I checked."
~~~***~~~
Author's Note:
Werewolf: Hi, sorry it took so long for us to update this. My partners in crime and I have finally managed to be in the same room for a day, so here's a chapter for all you rabid readers. This marks the halfway point in our extended hiatus. I will update as soon as I can.
Pirate: It's also been taking me forever and a day to beta read, so thank you all for managing to hold out this long. Quite honestly, if I had to wait this long for a bottle of rum, I'd go stark raving mad. Not that I haven't been accused of being so already . . .
Werecat: … I had something witty to say but then it went bye-bye.
Werewolf: Bye-bye? What are you two? And I blame the royally depressing movie you made us all watch. Ugh! I no longer have the higher cognitive function to even spell small words. You have damned me to my native odious vocabulary! UGH!!!!!!
I NEED SOME SAKE!
Werecat: HEY, it's not my fault, I blame the Fruit Drops!
Pirate: That movie was seriously depressing . . . and now for something completely different! Banana phone! Doo doo doo doo! (No, I'm not on crack – it's crystal meth. There's a difference.)
Werewolf: Or would that be lower cognitive function?
Never mind…. Ohhh sausage!
Werecat: … OK… This is what we get when the puppy is kept away from the forest for extended periods of time… utter lunacy!
Werewolf: I AM NOT A PUPPY DAMN IT!!!!!! I AM A WEREWOLF! HOMO LUPIS!!!!! GET IT RIGHT OR I'LL –I'll … Hang you upside down by your tail out of the crow's nest… or something. Here stupid kitty kitty!
Werecat: Oooo I'm so scared.
Pirate: Here we go again . . . Anyhoo! This author's note was brought to you by the letter W and the number 42 . . . that's how many shots of whiskey I'm going to need when this is all over . . .
Werecat: SHIT THAT'S A LOT OF WHISKEY!!!
Werewolf: INTERVENTION!!!!! QUICK, WHERE'S THE NEAREST AA MEETING?!!!!
Pirate: AA meetings are for quitters. I'm no quitter.
Werewolf: (face-palm)… sigh… where the hell did I put that jug of sake?!
Pirate: Umm … I drank it.
Werecat: That's it—I'm hiding the whiskey and the other jug of sake with the rum… and for that matter anything else even remotely alcoholic, including the COUGH SYRUP!
Werewolf: Hay! I hardly ever drink and I have never once been inebriated!!!! Why, (deep breath) would you care to elaborate on your reasons for hiding my sake?
Werecat: Easy—the captain can get it from you. I'm not as obliging.
Werewolf: Okay… so maybe under my bed is not the best hiding spot… I can't help it, I am a wolf. It's the safest place there is.
Pirate: No one will be safe if I don't get my rum in the next five minutes.
Werewolf: Here, have some coffee.
Pirate: XD Yay! Just as good!. (slurp slurp) See you all next time!!!