A Castrovel Adventure: Part 6, Chapter 13

Ashelae Treesong Eve 24,548 - Son   We idled under a late morntide at Krastaes’s treehome. Even after we woke, we stayed abed and whimsily sang of this dreamy ~tavaulzei~ - afterbliss - that none wished to forsake, and instead lay in our wifemates’ arms. Bywardly, Remaue, Kaure, and I stirred downtree merely to cleave our flagmates and share dearness and cuddles with childsisters, fathermates, and lovers. Thus we lately rose, readied for the daytide, and headed into the city.   I must yield shrift of a reason I wished not to go.f I had not already so forespoken to Lady-Captain, I would not have come. I reckoned that not only must I overtalk our flag’s doom, but also it would lead unswervably to meeting my mother. Yet right so surely I understood that shunning would make it worse. Thus I hardened myself to go, and worshiped Kaure and Remaue coming with me.   Ere we left, however, we had some things. Although most of our flag would come with, some had other business. Hanos wished to again go to his mother’s farmhold, since after his father’s death, he would afterlook her. Nae would understandably go with him. She also wished to overtalk motherly things, since her ereyear misbirth still overweighs and yearns for Greenmother’s blessing. We have sworn all canny, knowing that both Theore here and Liavil my father’s wifemate are loresome treesingers who surely know ripeness hymnspells. I forewarned Nae, however, of something she already knew: any worthy treesinger will sooner beread Nae to take an else man’s blessing. Rightlly, though she wishes Hanos her sworn manmate to become her child’s father, they will doubtlessly reckon likelihood that another man’s sap may better bequicken. I could tell this thought bothered her, though she gainsaid not. Then we kissed as spearsisters.   Thus later today, we came to Son and reached the Nes at almost duskmeal and soon ere the gates shut. We stalled the Shotalashu and stowed gear while I hastened to the mealhall and bade them hold food. In the hallway I ran into Captain Dosuaesh, who smiled while I swiftly hailed. He asked how things befell, whereat I answered we are here for Treesong and a few days while I read with Lady-Captain, and also forespoke I would stand to his bid.   Master-Captain nodded, and then asked: ~Dei lindize Maeile-mei?~ - “Have you spoken with your Lady-Mother?”   ~O’ahi-seili,~ - “I wish I could,” I glumly answered.   At my word, I cannot well bewrite the sorrow drooping his antennae, and then a swift wrath rising flatly ere he quelled it. Anon he begged sorrow, saying surely my mother would seek hap while I am in town. Rather hopelessly I yaysaid. ~Heyenya yorualf,~ - “I yield you peace,” wished Master-Captain. Then he left ere showing more shame, and me wondering why, although I athank his friendship, my mother’s feud has so saddened him. It still beriddles me while I write this.     Ashelae Treesong 24,548 - Son   When yesterday we came to the city, I had an inkling I might likely meet my mother. It proved true when at Greenmother's temple we beheld ourselves face to face at treesong’s end. She seemed more shaken than I. Yet soon as she rewhelmed (and Risodess my sister laid an ownersome hand on her shoulder), she bade us come to tonight’s duskmeal, whereat I bewared wantsome choice.   Later while I bathed Aeosel and readied, Oshis my fathermate spoke that, though he faithfully loves me, he would forgo my mother’s hall since he forelooked an even chillier welcome than I, and Erymi yaysaid. Less merrily foreyielded to host on foreword that my mother bestow much wine. Yet Tae smacked his nape and chided we better needed not him making wickedness. Draue outspoke she recked naught ladyhood’s hallcraft. Thus they left Sievae, whom I beseeched to afellow as my childsister, and Meiss her manlove along with my two wifemates and our children. Then we fivesome went wearing our best silks.   On our coming, my mother took Aeosel and almost would not yield him. She couthly bestowed Meiss guesthood as Qabarat’s newcomer, and then fell under tight swyness toward me while she undertook other guests. Lady Ihyl my mother’s steadholder talked, though mostly kindly nothingness. Elsewise we spoke more with the housegrooms, who at least remind me kindly.   Through most of the mealtide, my son happily sat on my mother’s lap. At last he begged to be down, whereat he gambled about the hall, played with his younger kin, and at last came to me. When I raised him up, I beheld my mother watching. For the first time our eyes met.   ~O’illi eiesya-shyalm o’si-temassi mue,~ she said: “We should yield thought to you staying here.”   Soon as my mother spoke, Risodess my eldest sister again laid hand. Their antennae thrummed wordsomely, and soon cloven by Raiale my other sister. The breathtide wherein they thoughtspoke stretched well older than couthness. Then our mother stood from the mealboard. To the other guests she begged sorrow, and then withdrew.   Aside from shamelessly witnessing my sisters overwilling our mother, it left me wondering what ownersomeness held her. Whatever the truth, after my mother’s flight, we chose to leave, since the outstaying fellowship foreboded dimmer guesthood. In the end, the lone hopeful glimmer I outfound under this sorrowful moottide was that my mother forsoothly beminds our hereness, whatever my sisters’ will.     2. Ashelae, 45,548 - Son   Keeping troth, today I stood to Lady-Captain’s hearth. To strengthen my beseech, I wore full harness, and helm under arm. We met in her stallroom ere noontide. Yet when I stood sharp, she bade me loosen and sit while she brewed tea. After we sipped, she said she had gotten word from the Aelau firdreeves of our flag’s good thewdom at Firdmoot, ingathering much good teaching drills. She also reckoned Krastaes would gladly recleave my flag if given the choice instead of playing drillmaster. I answered I would so gladly give him forehap if Lady-Captain saw fit.   Lady-Captain nodded. She answered she had much thought on our flag’s fetchbid. Beshrivedly, she told my sisters’ ill will has not lessened. Against that, she minded a canny fetchbid. She warned, however, that, knowing my history, I would little like it.   ~Sta?~ - “What is it?” I bluntly asked.   ~Kanao hivusza Valmayanarru,~ she answered: “You might go back to Valmayana.”   At that name my throat choked, and my antennae surely flattened. Of all duties I have yielded and all the fetchbids followed, my ereward time in Valmayana had been the evillest.   As bewared, Lady-Captain witted my ill and asked what I should say. So many thoughts ran through my mind and beflitted my answer. I could tell my hatred of the Valmayana High Staff, and who likely remind me friendlessly, of their war’s almost godlike worship, their reeves’ blind haughtiness, and their bloodyhearted outlook to anything kith to the Formians until that buglike kind’s utter slaughter. They had even bewrayed guiltsake against me merely for bargaining truce to save Lashunta lives - after the headreeves’ mistake bethreatened them! I could beg our children’s welfare, wherein we must forsake them at warfare. Yet these things seemed whininess and unlikely to besway Lady-Captain’s mind.   Instead, after a long breath, I told the same as I had told Lady Marauqereth in Ofu-Laubu. I know no mend for the hatred between Lashunta and Formians. Yet when I had become a warrior, and after all I learned of warriorhood here in Son, even under Lady-Captain’s wisdom, our everthought had been the city’s ward. By that thought’s outstretch: ~Rei yi shimi. O’yiadeni rei diyae,~ I spoke: “War itself is the the foe. Therefore war is evil.” Then I outlaid that, when we go southward to Valmayana and the High Staff sends us to the Straits of Glory, or even until the Colonies’ shore, then: ~Qoanma diyaea, yeio ma reia shoryelm,~ - “We become the evil, forwhy we bring war.”   Lady-Captain sat with the teacup forgotten. After a fraught breath, she yieldsomely said she could not gainsay my thought. Futhermore, we could luckily so speak here in our small upper-strath city where none far in Qabarat or Valmayana could overhear (even so, she warned me speak warily before the Matronhood and broader Citadel). Then she bade we should not deem swiftly, since rightly my flag should spend our first Heaventide in six years at home. She also said a thought will doubtlessly take my lady-mother if the Citadel outspeaks my fetchbid to Valmayana…which makes me wonder whether Lady-Captain raised the likelihood sheerly as a gambit to make my mother meet her unheeded guilt and stubbornness, and merely my flag’s livelihood hanging from the weighbough.   These thoughts churned my mind when our flag gathered aroom, whomto I rightly owed word. I told that, unless something weighty shifts in the next half-year, we may be sent back to Valmayana. Wryly I gladdened at other sorry brows, since it meant I alone misliked not this outlook. Valmayana would mean leaving our children, maybe bringing them to Qabarat if lucky, ere we sail southward to a war that never wins. Yet I warned that, unless we could win my mother’s goodwill or someone else, we may head back down Father Yaro after Floodtide.   Remaue listened while holding Kaure’s hand. Forsoothly, our heavenly wifemate has hallcraft-keen antennae, and I could tell something shrewd held her. ~Ahyao hoei zaeri,~ - “There may be a third choice.” Then she looked at me: ~Steio uthante qoanyelze?~ - “What if you get bechild?”   I hope my mouth did not gape so much as I feared. Yet I think our flagmates were right so shaken. Remaue beminded that under war-law, if I am bechild, I could not be sent on warfare, and also that stronger birthmight may help overwin more friends. Furthermore, the Citadel would not send a flag without their flagwife, and the deed would bestow us seven or eight years ere we must again foremeet such an outlook.   ~O’yiadeni, ve sere uthantere haea-nazif,~ - “Besides, I would get to make you bechild,” Remaue's wickedest grin flashed. Then she called our men: ~A stas illaea-rualiss?!~ - “Who would be willing?!” Then she forespoke to make me do the most wanton deeds while the men grinned and witlessly flicked eyes to see whether their wifemates might bestow leave.   Under laughter, I felt my blush even as I strove for even thought. Yet from Remaue’s bid, I foresaw another likelihood. ~A sta o’illi evolm kiafolara?~ - “Who would seek a farmhold?” I asked: somewhere to raise our children away a dayfare or two from the city, wishfully with a milktree and where we could maybe hunt and fish more than farm, and no sisters or matrons.    Even as I spoke, the thought quelled our mood, since it would foremean our warriorhood’s end.