211 - Guests I did not expect

We had decided that if we had two boys we’d call them Tyiria and Esora-e, if two girls, Karani and Tanra, and one of each, Tyirisora-e, the names of father and son merged to symbolize their rejoining, and Katanrani, the names of our respective blood-mothers merged formally, just as Roshten had informally merged the names of our blood-fathers.

So, though we had meant to name them as soon as they were born, as is also done in families that don’t stream-test, with the first one, we’d have to wait until the other came.

Kima wanted a sister, Tawaen a brother, saying, “I have enough little sisters,” to great outcry. “Daddy,” Kilalere asked me, “this isn’t something we can vote on, is it?” Meanwhile Niku had pushed out the first after-birth, and Baska taken it from the midwife’s hands and slipped away; I was too shy yet to tell my parents about the Niah custom of the mother frying and eating it, just as they eat the hearts of their dead. (I’d never had an argument with her eating my heart after I died, but I wasn’t sure it would be so with any other Yeoli; now it was good not to have to worry about that happening so soon.)

“No, loves, this is a no-choice,” I said to my squabbling spawn. “You’ll love him or her, and she or he will love you, either way.” The second twin’s head crowned, and then on the next push (on which Niku and I were both seized with fits of giggling between pushing-yells), he was out. He was a boy, but his sex was suddenly the least of our troubles, as he did not breathe, and turned blue as the blood ceased flowing in the cord.

As third eldest, Vriah should have the knife, but she was almost too young anyway, and the midwife said sharply, “Cut it now,” so Etana did it, and Natandra passed the baby straight to Kaninjer, who sucked I know not what out of his mouth and nose with his own mouth, then worked points on his tiny chest.

We all went silent in terror. “He’s scared,” whispered Vriah. Niku buried her head in my neck; feigning calm for all I was worth, I told her, “He’ll be fine,” praying that it prove true.

It took time and work on Kaninjer’s part, but soon enough came a tiny coughing and gasping, and then he started mewling, and all the children cheered and danced, Vriah crowing, “He likes breathing!” When he’d turned to his true colour, Kaninjer brought him back to us.

They both took to the breast well, one apiece. “Welcome to the world which we will fill with love for you, Katanrani,” I said. “Welcome to the world which we will fill with love for you, Tyirisora-e.” Once the second after-birth was delivered and spirited away also, and it was clear that Niku was not bleeding, it was truly over. The four of us basked in the water, while the midwife and Kaninjer packed up their things.

“I suppose you’re going to wave it in everyone’s face that you’re not stream-testing them, by asking us to put up the flags now,” Esora-e said to me.

“Absolutely,” I said. “Red for your shadow-grandson, blue for your shadow-granddaughter, hop to it.” He went out without a word.

Kat—that would be her name from now on in the family—slipped off the breast with a tiny sucking pop, fast asleep; Tyiso hung on even in sleep, and so I carried her and Niku carried him when we finally climbed out, and she lay back in the bed. Kaninjer insisted on checking me before I joined her, then tenderly slathered my back and calf with whack-herb cream, gave me several remedies and ordered me to spend the whole rest of the day in bed. This was just as the vague memory was coming back to me that there was a referendum count happening today about whether I’d remain semanakraseye, and I was due down at Assembly Palace.

“How were you going to get the results on the island?” he asked me, when I stood back up again.

“I’m not there now, I’m here, and I can get to where I should be.”

“You have a good excuse not to, if being with your new children and wife who is recovering from bearing them isn’t enough: healer’s orders.”

“For two bruises?”

“The cracked rib was more what I was thinking of. This one, here.” He pressed his point with a hard enough finger-poke to draw a yelp out of me. “And what you have on your calf is not just a bruise but a hematoma. You’ll have to suffer the hardship of staying here with the new life you’ve made.”

“Cracked rib?” Niku said from the bed. “Hematoma?”

“Getting kriff’ed took two tries,” I said. Taking her demand to tell her everything as evidence that she was strong enough to hear it, I told her. She took several deep breaths.

It was she who came up with the compromise that settled it, that I rest here until the last flyers were in. Tawaen helped by offering to act as runner and accounting for them. Vriah patted my shoulder. “You don’t need to worry, Aba. You said, either way it would be good.” At least I’d hid my nervousness from everyone else.

We posted Tawaen on the terrace as lookout. Down at Assembly Palace, a crowd grew as dark fell; each time a wing came in, they’d send up a huge cheer, the last getting the hugest. “That’s my signal,” I said. “A bead or so, and all the summing-up will be done. Whoever’s coming, coats and boots on.” The kids raced out in a yelling clot.

“Take a horse-sleigh down and back, stay sitting the whole time and no late partying,” Kaninjer commanded.

“If I’m reinstated,” I begged him, “can I let them carry me around Vae Arahi on their shoulders once?” He decided his best bet for keeping me under his thumb was to come down with me. As Skorsas and Krero were setting up the sleigh and escort, I dressed properly: austerely, of course, but I folded the semanakraseyeni shirt into my pouch, just in case.

Then Niku decided she was up to coming, too, which meant everyone; my mother slung Kat and Niku slung Tyiso and they stepped up into the sleigh beside me, and we all went down, like a parade. No one could argue we did not already have reason to celebrate.

The counting-room has a public gallery, but I’d look too hungry if I sat there. Instead Kaninjer set Niku and me up in chairs on the dais of the stone-stove in the ante-room to the Assembly chamber. The place was jammed with people; Kaninjer kept dragging me back down into my chair by my shirt when I’d stand up to take their I-haven’t-seen-you-in-a-month hugs. There were a few I definitely did not expect.

“Surya?” I’d never seen him dressed formally, except as an asakraiyaseye, so I didn’t even know him until he was right beside me, Kuraila beside him in her Assembly kerchief. “How in Celestialis did you get off the island?”

“The only way, the same way you did. We decided we didn’t want to miss it so we sent one of your pigeons up to Sijurai.”

“You mad fool, do you have any idea how dangerous that is? Didn’t you see that when I did it?”

He slapped his hand over his eyes. “Just when I think you’re cured. Well, I tell you what…” He glanced around, spotted what he wanted, pointed. “Argue that with him.” My next question, “We?”, died on my lips. Next to my mother, caressing Tyiso’s tiny brown cheek, was Azaila.

Then a blond head and two white satin shoulders with gold that I knew but couldn’t believe appeared. “We thought we’d surprise you!” Minis said, throwing his arms open. “Kall sends his regrets, you know, Imperator… but I’ve brought Kyriala.”

His fiancée had the typical bred-for beauty of ancient Aitzas houses, like Liren, from which she’d come, with the silken, almost-silver hair, the fine skin, slim wrists and ankles and perfect features. It belied her strength, though; he and she both had relayed here, which made her the first woman who’d ever done it. So had his two shadows, both of the new Mahid, dressed in deep wine rather than black, with just a silver buckle as a nod to the tradition, and smiling freely. As I welcomed her, I mentioned I’d heard tales of her courage from her husband-to-be, which turned out to be a gaffe; I didn’t know they’d never been re-betrothed after he’d released her. She gave him the ‘we-must-talk’ look, and he blushed a colour not unlike the uniforms of his new Mahid. Just the fact that they were here together would be a scandal among some Arkans, so I don’t blame myself.

Then I caught sight of the girl from Krasila’s school who’d asked me if she was good enough to be in the School of the Sword, Merao Shae-Lishiyin. Esora-e’s mother had finally softened enough to let her try out, it seemed. I could introduce her to Azaila right here. She seemed surprised I remembered her. “Yes,” she confirmed when I asked. “Kraiyasenseye brought us to apply, three of us.”

“Brought you? You mean—she’s here?”

“Yes… somewhere in this room.”

“Tell him I told you what I did, that you’re good enough.” I waved over Azaila, introduced them and left them to speak, and headed back to the dais to search the crowd for my shadow-grandmother. She found me first.

“Virani-e. I understand that is the current name you are going by. Integrity… not Rao?” She was still wearing a deep grey woolen coat with a thick fox-fur collar, and black gloves, though we were inside, and stood spear-straight as always, so the coat looked as if it were hung on an armour-stand.

“Shadow-grandma!” I threw my arms open and said what I was saying to everyone, “Around the shoulders, please!” She gave me a stiff short clench. “I didn’t know you were coming.”

“Neither did I. But here I am. New-child blessings to you, twice over... imagine it, twins. Your chocolate wife threw them? May I see the little brown blighters?”

“If we can find them; they’re getting passed around. Trust my luck they’d be born on the same day as the count.”

Her brows drew down hard. “Born? Today? Then they haven’t been stream-tested yet? The flags were up and Esora-e said they survived.”

So she’d spoken to him first; I wondered where I’d find the blubbering ruin of him. I could see just how it had gone; she’d said something about them both surviving though they were twins, and he’d said, “Yes, they did,” so as to avoid the subject, knowing he’d be able to say he’d thought she meant survived the birth.

“He must have thought you meant survived the birth,” I said. “The boy almost didn’t. But we aren’t planning to stream-test them, that’s why the flags. Ah, here…” Ignoring her glare, I caught sight of my youngest son in Artira’s arms, introduced her and Krasila, and took him. “This is your shadow-great-grandson… Tyirisora-e.”

She stared at me hard again, but her hands, as if independent of her mind, reached for him, and as his tiny warm weight went from my arm to hers, she transformed. Her hands were suddenly tender as a new mother’s, she softened all over, and her face lit up with a smile, dropping twenty years in a moment, as she stared into his. “Well, young man! Aren’t you the little bruiser, hmm? Aren’t you something?” He smiled and burbled back; soon she’d pulled the gloves off with her teeth and unbuttoned her coat, to snuggle him inside it, cooing non-stop.

I stood blinking in amazement. Krasila Mangu, a sop for babies—who’d have imagined?

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