The arrangement had initially seemed bewildering to Tae; mental communication did not allow much leeway for whispering, shouting, or mishearing. He wondered how the alsona kept myriad conversations going without interfering with one another. The last couple of days afloat, however, had brought answers. Apparently, they used regular speech for close, intimate conversations and reserved the mind calls for times when distance or numbers required it. At first, that bothered Tae. All that came to him were coarse discourses between sailors regarding chores, minor problems, and issues with the riggings. He worried that he was missing all the important exchanges.
Over time, however, Tae gathered a bit more from the stray bits and conversations that wafted clearly through the mental connection. He located the flagship in the middle of the formation, larger than the others and carrying their highest commander, the only Kjempemagiska they had brought. *I'm cold,* Imorelda lamented.*I'm cold and wet and hungry. And, worst of all, I'm wet.*
Tae hated to lose his ability to scan for enemy communications. He just knew the moments focused directly on the cat, instead of the pirates, would turn out to be the most revealing ones. Also, when Imorelda was helping him listen, she could not complain.*You said 'wet' twice.* *I hate wet.Wet's twice as bad as the others.*
Though tired of Imorelda's whining, Tae could not help feeling responsible for her misery. She had perched upon his shoulders for so long, he had already passed the points of pain and numbness.*I really am sorry, Imorelda. You know that. I'd have left you at the castle if I could, warm and overfed. But I can't do this without you.* *I'm cold and wet and hungry.* *And wet,* Tae reminded.
Imorelda shivered suddenly, and Tae had to grab hold of the sides of his makeshift boat to keep from teetering into the water. *Get some food from the pack, Imorelda. Eat as much as you want.* Tae knew he could moderate his own rations to make up for whatever extra she ate.
Imorelda snubbed Tae's offer as if only a fool would have made it.*I'm not hungry.*
Tae sighed and closed his eyes, seeing no need to argue.*Then crawl inside my cloak. It's warmer and relatively dry.*
Imorelda remained in position. Apparently, she preferred complaining to action. *Imorelda, please go back to scanning. I need you.* *But I don't understand anything they're saying.* Imorelda rearranged herself on Tae's shoulders, much to his relief.*And it's boring.* *I understand.* Tae meant it and hoped his sincerity came through with his words.*Saving our world may seem boring to you, but it's survival to me and everyone we know and love.* *Like Subikahn?*
Tae stiffened. He had managed to shove thoughts of his only son out of conscious memory for longer than he would have believed possible. Can't afford distractions. He put an emphasis just short of anger into his sending,*Just go back to scanning, Imorelda. If we lose this war, every human of our world will die. And these alsona don't seem to like cats much, either.*
Imorelda gave Tae just enough mental sending to demonstrate her displeasure with him, before going back into listening mode.
Tae found himself hopelessly entwined with thoughts of Subikahn. He remembered romping with his son, the boy's cherubic cheeks shining, and the day toddler Subikahn had discovered Imorelda's eyes. The poking had not endeared him to her, and it had taken six scratchings to teach Subikahn not to pull her tail or try to cut her whiskers. Imorelda did not like children; she had made that abundantly clear. Yet, once Subikahn turned six or seven, they had become close friends. She would chase him through the fields of Stalmize, finding him rodents and butterflies to capture and bring triumphantly home.
In later years, whenever Subikahn sneaked into the kitchen for snacks, much to the staff 's chagrin, he always snagged a bit of meat or cheese for Imorelda. For her, Subikahn could do no wrong. And, once, it was the same for his father.
Violently, Tae drove the thought from his mind, forcing himself to absorb every nuance of communication with a single-mindedness that precluded other thought.When a mind-call finally did come through, the intensity of his concentration turned it into a shout that echoed painfully through his mind.*Firuz wants all second-level commanders in his quarters at sunrise.* Tae's heart rate doubled. The moment had come. The Kjempemagiska had called a strategy meeting. Now, Tae only had to figure out a way to be there when it happened.
Queen Matrinka paced the rooftop of Bearn Castle, peering down over the Southern Sea. She no longer noticed the bunched, gray warships or the squealing gulls overhead; and the salt wind whipping off the sea no longer bothered her. Her gaze could not pick out the tiny speck that represented Tae and his flotsam raft, and the mind-calls she sent repeatedly to Imorelda went unanswered. She had known their mental bond would not endure at such a distance; she had had to stay reasonably close to Mior to hear her, too. But Matrinka felt she had to try.
The hatch flopped opened. Accustomed to guardsmen coming and going, Matrinka paid it no heed until she recognized her oldest child, Marisole, poking her head through the opening. Gracefully, the nineteen-year-old swung up through it to join her mother on the rooftop. Placing a hand over her eyes to shade them, Marisole peered into the dingy daylight. "You can't see him from here, you know."
"Who?" Matrinka asked innocently.
"Who?" Marisole struck a distinctly adolescent pose, one hand on her hip, her brows arched. "Mama, if you could see King Tae from here, the folks on the ships could see him, too, couldn't they?"
Matrinka sighed. Years had passed since she could hide anything from Marisole.
"You love him, don't you, Mama?"
Matrinka tore her gaze from the ocean. She had long ago stopped really looking, only stared in mindless habit. "Of course, I love him, Marisole. He's been a close friend for many years, long before either of us became… rulers."
"So how come you and he never…?" Marisole made a gesture that Matrinka could not fathom.
"Tae and I never… what?"
"Never courted. Never married." Marisole's dark eyes demonstrated a sincerity Matrinka would never have expected for such a foolish question. She had to remind herself that Marisole had not lived the youthful interactions between her parents and their companions, had no personal experience with love and true commitment. For all her knowledge and study, Marisole did not yet understand relationships.
Matrinka remained patient, as usual. "Marisole, I love Tae like a brother, never like a lover. He adored my closest friend, and I was in love with-"
"-my father," Marisole finished.
Matrinka would not lie. "No, not with your father. I didn't even know Griff, then."
"I'm sorry. That came out all wrong. I meant with my blood father," Marisole said matter-of-factly. "With Darris."
Matrinka stared as her blood grew gradually colder in her veins. She knew this day might come, but she had always hoped to avoid it. "Marisole," she said carefully, "why do you say that?"
Marisole raised one shoulder. "Because it's the truth, right? You loved Darris."
"I did," Matrinka admitted. "I still do. But why are you denouncing your wonderful father?" She took a closer look at her growing daughter. Marisole looked more like Darris with each passing day: the generous nose, the streak of green in her eyes, the full and sensuous lips.
"I'm not denouncing him," Marisole said defensively. "He's the best father in the world, and he's made some extraordinary children." A smile tugged the corners of her mouth. She tipped her head up to Matrinka, and she clearly wanted the truth, obviously needed it.
Over the decades, Matrinka had found peace in understanding Darris' drive to know everything, had come not only to accept his need to use song when imparting knowledge, but to revel in listening to it. Marisole, she knew, suffered the same affliction.