Legends of Meras: The Ballad of Selvion Forcendi (III)

Author’s Note: This is the third chapter of the story to the prequel of The Rebirth of Meras. I was supposed to post this a month ago, so apologies for the delay. This chapter is, incidentally, a bit lighter than the previous ones.

But, for now, let us escape once more into a different world…

Chapter Three: Family Matters

Selvion was walking back to the suite of rooms he shared with the Omarch princes when he heard footsteps scrambling towards him. When he turned to see who it was, he saw Thamance running up to him, a stern expression on her face. He was startled when she punched him in the arm; not that it hurt, but he could not recall saying anything to offend her.

“You fibbed!” she hissed at him, but she seemed more annoyed than angry. “The only person in your family you don’t like is your big brother. Uncle Gion says you’re actually fond of your big sisters!”

The boy managed to blush and look very sheepish at this pronouncement. “All boys think their sisters are the most interfering busybodies,” he said defensively, rubbing the sore spot on his arm where she’d hit him. “And the twins tend to mother me too much.” He sighed. “They sort of had to, though.”

“Your mother took your poppa’s death too hard,” Thamance said, her expression softening. “That’s why there haven’t been any treats for you — or for any of your siblings, for that matter — anymore.”

Selvion nodded as they resumed walking together. “All the life seemed to have drained out of Mother after what happened in Peinan,” he confessed. “She just curled up into herself. It didn’t help, you know, that we couldn’t bring Father and Grandfather home to bury.” He grimaced at the gristly memory. “Auntie Andrina said that Mother would have had at least some closure if we’d had a proper funeral for them. But there wasn’t much to bring home; the Gafdans literally tore them to pieces.”

Thamance said nothing, but companionably linked her arm with his. Selvion looked down and saw tears in her eyes. He smiled sadly and gently dabbed at her eyes with his handkerchief.

“We’ve managed,” he told her as he put his handkerchief away. “Kanna and Rinna were supposed to attend The Academy with me — I mean, they both passed with flying colours, after all. But Kanna thought that it would be hard for Mother if four of us were suddenly out of the house, seeing how our older brother was already attending a boarding school in eastern Xylia where Father’s originally from; Rinna agreed with her.” He smiled faintly at the memory of being told off by the twins. “They’re kind of grown-up in that way.”

“I can’t blame them,” Thamance said quietly. “They could see your mamma wasn’t in the best shape — and who would take care of you and your baby sister? Didn’t your granny and grandpa do anything?”

Selvion signed and nodded. “O-haama had a lot to say about that at the time; O-yahji and most of our elders backed her up,” he said. “In the end, the twins insisted on staying in Rossai. They chose to attend a day school near our house so they could keep an eye on Mother and Partecia.”

“Your Uncle Gion said that your grandparents were planning to bring your mother home to Heian to help her recover,” Thamance told him, “and that the twins and your baby sister are currently with the rest of your family there. He said they’ll be coming along in a couple of days.”

Selvion nodded. “When O-haama makes a decision, not even O-yahji can tell her no,” he said. “And this time, she put her foot down: Mother is to close the town-house in Rossai until she’s feeling better, the twins get to transfer to The Academy — unorthodox, I know, because they don’t normally take in transferees — and Tecia will attend school in Heian until she can join us here in Meras.”

“And your brother?”

“Our other grandmother has custody of him,” Selvion replied with an indifferent shrug. “Not that it’s going to matter by next year: Alserion’s in Upper Sixth now, and he’ll be twenty and done with school by next summer. What he does is entirely up to him, though the Forcendi estates are technically his.” He smiled at Thamance. “You mentioned that you’d love to meet my mother?” he asked. “Well, you’ll get your chance soon. As I said, she’s lovely — only, she’s just so sad.”

They walked in silence for a while and stopped before the door of the suite. To Thamance’s wonder, Selvion did not bother with the doorknob or even with the key. Instead, he walked right through the solid wooden door.

“How did you do that?” he heard her squeal delightedly. “You’re like a ghost!”

He walked back and grinned when he saw the look of surprise on her face. “The Forcendis are mist-walkers,” he informed her. “It’s our main Talent. We can walk through just about anything.” He grimaced as he remembered a little incident that had happened earlier. “Well, not everything,” he confessed. “Your father had me try to walk through a biometrically warded door.” Absently, he rubbed his arms. “It still rather stings.”

Thamance’s bright green eyes were wide and she clapped her hands in sheer delight. “Can you show me how you do it?” she asked him, a slightly wheedling tone in her voice as she shook his arm. “Please?”

Selvion held his hands out to her. “Take my hands,” he said. “Whatever you do, though, don’t let go.”

The little princess nodded and clasped his hands in hers. “So, how do we…”

Humming softly to himself, Selvion walked backwards, slipping effortlessly through the door once again. Thamance gave a little shriek as he pulled her through and was trembling visibly once they were both safely inside.

“That…” She drew a deep breath to calm herself, and suddenly hugged Selvion. “That was awesome!” she declared happily.

Selvion laughed at this unexpected reaction, realising to himself that it was the first time he had truly laughed since his father died.

You’ve kept to yourself for too long, a small voice reminded him in his head. She isn’t even trying to draw you out the way so many others have; she’s simply curious — and she tries not to pry.

“Would you like to do it again?” he asked her.

He expected her to say no, to have been a little frightened by the experience. But she nodded eagerly, making him laugh again, and she trustingly placed her hands in his.

“Yes, please,” she said, grinning up at him.

+++

Gion was startled when he heard laughter as he stepped into the corridor that led to the Bellovre family quarters and the suites for high-level guests.

At first, knowing what he did about the old castles and keeps of Meras, he assumed that the halls were haunted. But he smiled to himself when he heard the cracking voice of a boy rapidly shooting up into manhood — a voice both familiar and yet not so.

He found Selvion and little Thamance walking through walls and doors, the former showing the latter one of his innate abilities. For the first time in over four years, Gion actually heard his nephew laugh and it was a sound that warmed his heart.

“Well, what are you two bad kittens up to?” he asked rather sternly as he came to stand in the middle of the corridor in front of them.

“Selvion was showing me how he walks through walls, Uncle Gion!” Thamance enthused, her little face bright with glee.

“Just showing her how we do it, uncle,” Selvion chimed in, a big grin on his pale face which had taken on a ruddy tint in the cheeks. Gion took it that the lad was having fun; he approved of this.

“So long as you don’t go poking your noses into places you ought not to be in,” Gion advised them with a kind smile. He looked around. “Just you two? Where are all the others?”

“Phaan’s gone with Lissom to say hello to her dad,” Selvion informed him. “Torassen’s in the library with Torv and Yuuji — at least, they were there when I left the library. I was going to take a nap.”

Thamance looked up at him, surprised. “Why didn’t you tell me?” she exclaimed. “I should’ve left you alone, then!”

Selvion chuckled and playfully pinched the tip of her nose. “It’s all right,” he said. “The twins say I nap far too much during the hols.”

“You’ll miss napping when you’re both older,” Gion remarked sagely. “Trust me.” But he smiled at the change in his nephew who was normally so grim and serious.

I daresay he’s found a playmate who understands him, he thought. But, perhaps, more than that… He narrowed his eyes speculatively at Thamance. The little princess had promised to say nothing, but he noted the way she regarded Selvion. She has never known tragedy — she came a good time after her parents’ struggle — but she has a good heart and she’s quite grown up for her age. He nodded approvingly to himself. She’s good for him and, seeing how she misses the company of other children, he’s good for her.

“When’s O-yahji coming, uncle?” Selvion now asked him.

“Sunday afternoon,” Gion replied.

“I suppose there will be a motorcade from the aeroport?” Thamance asked. “We usually hold one for state visitors.”

“Yes, but your grandmother has decided to dispense with ceremony, my dear,” Gion remarked soberly. “She’s also called in King Theobarne. What’s currently happening in international waters isn’t something to shrug about.”

The children stared at him sharply. “Gafdans?” Selvion asked bleakly.

“I’m afraid so, child. Slow-moving vessels in international waters are something to look at seriously.”

Thamance stared up at him, apprehension in her bright green eyes. “Will there be a war, Uncle Gion?” she asked nervously.

There was a fierce look on Selvion’s face and it seemed that the little boy standing before the Crown Prince of Eno had been replaced by an angry young man, the banked fires of a longstanding rage glowing in his grey eyes. It was not the face of a child, but of a man bent on revenge and the most brutal retribution.

Gion sighed and shrugged. “I hope not,” he said. “I pray it isn’t so.”

+++

“I just remembered that we’ll have our own rooms this term,” Phaandrom declared as he and his companions prepared for bedtime.

Selvion grinned at this. “I don’t have to listen to you snore anymore,” he teased his friend.

“And I needn’t listen to you mumbling in your sleep!”

Torassen, who had just stepped out of the bathroom, paused from rubbing his wet hair dry with a towel at this.

“You don’t get your own rooms until you’re in Fourth Form?” he asked the older boys.

“You stay in a dorm with all the other lads for the first couple of years,” Selvion explained as he adjusted the thermostat in a corner of the room, making sure it was cold enough to comfortably sleep in. “In Third Form, you buddy up with a roommate. Whether you get your own room in the Fourth Form depends on whether or not you have rank in class.” He jerked a thumb at Phaandrom who smirked as he rose. “Your brother’s Head of the Fourth this term and I’m his Second: the Fourth Form beadle. We get our own rooms; all the other lads have to buddy up till next year.”

“It’s the same with the girls,” Phaandrom added before closing the door behind him. “Lissom’s a house prefect, so she gets her own room while everyone else has to room in with someone else.”

Torassen laughed at this. “Liss is a prefect?” he chortled. “And people are actually afraid of her?”

“You don’t know half of it,” Selvion replied soberly. “As short as she is, that temper of hers scares even me.”

“And he scares people on his own!” Phaandrom shouted from the bath.

“Plus, she’s crazy-strong,” Selvion added, curling up in one of the armchairs in the sitting room, a book in hand. “You don’t mess with women like that.”

“Pshaw, Sel; Liss is just a girl!” Torassen exclaimed in surprise.

“Go tell that to the Fifth Form bully she tossed into a tree in the middle of the Second Term,” Selvion said with a wry grimace. “It took the Upper Sixth lads the better part of three hours to get him down.” He shrugged before settling down to read. “Our huismeisie couldn’t even scold her: the jerkwad had been bullying some girls from the First Form and Liss stepped in to haul him off.”

“I take it he made someone cry and Liss didn’t stand for it?”

“Got it in one,” Selvion agreed, starting on his book.

There was a knock on the door and Torassen went to answer it. “Hullo, Aunt Theone,” he greeted the Heiress-Noble.

“Hello, Tor,” she greeted him as she stepped into the room. A servant carrying a tray with mugs and a steaming pitcher that exuded the aroma of rich dark chocolate and cinnamon entered with her. “Brissea, put the chocolate service over there on the coffee table, please.”

“Yes, Highness,” the servant replied, carefully placing the tray in the middle of the table.

“Thank you, head on out to quarters now,” Theone said, nodding gratefully. “Good night.”

The servant smiled back and curtsied before leaving the room.

“Are you lads settling in for the night?” Theone now asked the boys.

“Yes, Your Highness,” Selvion said, rising to his feet and bowing respectfully.

Theone raised an eyebrow at this and folded her arms at her chest. “Selvion?”

Selvion dimpled mischievously and went up to her for a motherly hug. “Sorry, Aunt Theone,” he apologised.

“It’s all right, dearie.” Theone planted a motherly kiss on his head and on Torassen’s. “I just wanted to check if the three of you have everything you need.”

“We do, auntie,” Selvion assured her. He smiled, a hopeful gleam in his eyes. “But would it be all right to ask if there are any of your chestnut cakes left from tea?”

Theone laughed at this and fondly ruffled the boy’s unruly hair. “You’ll have to share with Thamance, you know,” she told him. “She’s scampered down to the kitchens for them.”

As if on cue, someone was thumping at the door. “Tor?” they heard Thamance yell from outside. “Phaan? Are you still up? The cooks let me have the leftover cakes from tea!”

Selvion trotted over and opened the door. The little princess stood outside in a dark green nightgown topped by a dressing robe in a lighter shade of green and matching slippers; her red hair was unplaited and fell below her waist. She grinned up at Selvion and held up a platter of cakes to him.

“There were still about a dozen chestnut cakes,” she informed him. “We didn’t quite eat them all earlier, and there are strawberry cream cakes and chocolate custard puffs left, too.”

Selvion eagerly took two of the chestnut cakes and was about to thank her, but Thamance put the tray down on a nearby table and handed him four more.

“Halfsies,” she said, winking playfully. “They go nicely with hot chocolate, by the way.”

“Yes, and your mother’s here with some hot chocolate for us.”

Thamance brightened at this and poked her head around the door. “Hi, Mamma!” she sang out.

“Pet, be sure to clean your teeth after you eat those cakes,” her mother admonished her.

“I will,” Thamance assured her as she walked into the room. She placed most of the pastries on one of the saucers on the tray, keeping just one chocolate puff and all of the remaining chestnut cakes for herself. Then, she went up to her mother for a hug and a good-night kiss. “Good night, Mamma; I’ll go to my room now.”

“Good night, pet,” Theone replied.

Thamance bade the boys goodnight and took up her tray. As she made her way out, Selvion held the door open for her. He smiled warmly as she impulsively hugged him before going her way.

“She likes you,” Theone said simply as he closed the door. There was a motherly smile on her face as she spoke. “And, mind you: Thamance doesn’t warm up to people easily.”

Selvion smiled at this. “She reminds me of my sisters,” he said. “She’s ‘Tecia’s age, but she acts like the twins — Kanna, in particular.”

Theone laughed at this. “I’m not surprised,” she said. “I think the twins picked up a little from me.”

Selvion blinked as he remembered. “Mother did say you were the twins’ godmother,” he said.

Theone nodded. “And your parents sent them here to stay with us before you were born,” she recalled. Her face suddenly looked grim and her lips pursed into a thin line. “Yes: there was a storm coming to Rossai at the time and your father fretted about how to keep your brother and sisters calm and occupied in the event that your mother gave birth during the storm. His mother took in Alserion, but she left the twins.”

“She says girls don’t really count,” Selvion chimed in soberly as he accepted a mug of hot chocolate from her. “The twins more so — because she says they’re mongrels.”

Theone sniffed contemptuously at this, and Torassen said, “That’s a lot of malarkey; your sisters are brighter than most boys I know — your big brother, included.”

“I know,” Selvion agreed. “But you know our grandmother: she never liked our mother.” He dimpled fiendishly. “I think it’s because, despite how most people think Mother married someone way below her on the social ladder, she still outranks my grandmother. So, she belittles everything mother does.”

“Even now?” Theone asked grimly.

“Yes, auntie,” Selvion replied, “especially now that Alserion’s almost ready to take over the estates in the east.” He grimaced. “Well, as ready as he’ll probably be.”

Theone clucked her tongue at this disapprovingly but said nothing. Instead, she handed him a mug of hot chocolate.

“Well, tomorrow’s another day,” she said kindly. “You boys eat up and finish your chocolate before it goes cold.” She raised her voice so that Phaandrom could hear her. “Same goes with you, Phaan — and all three of you clean your teeth before bed.”

Selvion looked up at Theone, a faint blush on his cheeks. He gulped nervously and asked, “Auntie, could I please ask for another hug? I miss my mother right now.”

“Of course, child,” Theone put her arms around him and gave him a good squeeze. Selvion remembered what Thamance had said: that her parents’ first child would have been a boy his age if he had lived. He realised that Theone would never say anything, but her heart would always pine for what might have been. It saddened the sensitive boy, but knowing he could do precious little about it, all he could do was hug back as tightly as he could.

+++

“Kitties!” Thamance called as she trotted out into the kitchen garden, a pail of kibbled meats in her hands. “Kitties, breakfast!”

It had long been the little princess’ habit to help in the Sapphira’s kitchens whenever she could. Ever since she had been big enough to clamber onto a stool to help stir up batters and doughs, she was an eager helper to Mistress Creveaux — fondly called Cookie by everyone — and her staff. Neither her parents nor her grandparents discouraged this: the Bellovres had a reputation for rolling up their sleeves and getting their hands dirtied by hard work — which was a better way of getting one’s hands dirty as opposed to the underhanded dealings of many noble families in Meras.

This morning, she’d put an apron over her day-frock and went down to the kitchen as usual. Cookie had smiled and asked if she could feed the kitchen and pantry cats out in the gardens. Thamance, a long-time lover of cats, had dimpled up in delight and did not hesitate to grab the heavy pail of cat-food.

But, to the little girl’s consternation, no cats or kittens came scampering up to her. Where could they be? she thought worriedly as she set the pail down beside the long row of dishes set out for the cats. She wandered through the huge garden, weaving through the neatly laid out rows of vegetables, calling for the cats.

The end of the garden was where the family orchard began, a thickly forested but well-kept area that a long-ago Magistra had planted over with peach, plum, apple, and cherry trees. It was here that Thamance came upon an unusual sight: up in the branches of the biggest cherry tree were all two dozen of the palace cats. They were perched comfortably on different branches, with some of the braver ones higher up in the tree. And curled up with his back to the trunk of the tree on one of the larger and lower branches was Selvion Forcendi with a clutch of sleepy kittens on his lap.

“Good morning,” he greeted her from his perch.

“Hi, Selvion!” Thamance called back. She giggled when she saw how the cats warmed up to him. “I see you’ve made a lot of friends.”

“They were telling me how happy they are to live here with you,” he told her without the faintest trace of either teasing or irony. As if in response to what he said, the biggest of the cats — a beautiful calico mother — purred loudly and snuggled against him, rubbing her head under the boy’s chin.

“They aren’t pets,” Thamance called up. “They’re family — and their breakfast is ready.”

Almost as soon as Thamance said “breakfast,” every cat up in the tree seemed to perk up and there was a mad scramble down the tree as everyone scampered to where their bowls were.

Selvion easily jumped off the branch, landing on his feet with the mother cat in one arm and the kittens in the other. The mother cat leapt into Thamance’s arms and purred adoringly as the little princess scratched her behind the ears.

“Hello, Samasina,” she greeted the happy cat who nuzzled blissfully against her cheek. “You and your babies must be hungry. Cookie has plenty of kibble for you today!”

“You’re her person,” Selvion remarked as they followed the other cats back into the kitchen garden.

Thamance grinned up at him, amused that he pronounced ‘person’ as ‘purr-son.’ “I am,” she replied. “I found her when she was a tiny kitty meowing near my old school.” Sadly, she added that Samasina’s mother had apparently been run over by a moto-cruiser. “She was all alone and she was very hungry, so I took her home. I thought Mamma and Poppa weren’t going to let me keep her, but she’s such a beautiful kitty that they loved her, too.”

“She told me that she lives in your old nursery with her babies,” Selvion said, “and that she’s sad that you’re going away to school soon. But she’ll be here waiting when you come home. In the meantime, she has your mother, grandmother, and a lot of other people who will cuddle and cosset her and her kittens.”

This statement made Thamance raise an eyebrow. “You understand what cats say?” she asked somewhat incredulously.

“Mi-ing is a common language among cats,” Selvion replied, looking as if being able to understand cats was the most ordinary thing in the world. “There are just a few differences in the accents and some common expressions. It’s like human languages: Meras, Xylia, and Taryan all speak the same language, right?”

Thamance nodded. “But how is it that the way you and Phaandrom talk is a bit different from how Lissom and I talk?” she asked him.

“It’s the accent: Phaan and I speak with what people call a burr which makes the way we talk sound kind of rough and — for some people at school — rustic.” Thamance giggled at the way he grimaced upon uttering the word. “So, something as simple as ‘Yes, I’ll be right over, no worries’ sounds like ‘Aye, I’ll be reet o’er, nae woories.’”

“Or how the Taryanese sound lazy when they talk,” Thamance chimed in.

Selvion nodded. “That’s called a drawl,” he explained. “It sounds like they’re dragging out each word a bit slower than most.”

“And cats from different countries talk the same way? Their, um, Mi-ing sounds a little different?”

“You got it.”

When they arrived at the cats’ feeding area, each cat was sitting beside its dish, and was eagerly sniffing the scent of kibble from the pail. Samasina hopped out of Thamance’s arms and scurried over to Selvion. She meowed at him and, to Thamance’s delight, he meowed back as he gently set the sleepy kittens onto the lawn. The cat gratefully rubbed against his ankles before herding her babies to their places.

“Need help?” Selvion asked as Thamance set to putting food in each dish with a small metal scoop.

“No, but thank you,” she replied as she fed the cats. But she paused and pointed to a low trough near the kitchen door. “Could you please fill that up with water?” she asked him. “Hose and faucet are right next to it.”

“No problem,” Selvion replied, heading off to fill the trough at once.

Thamance hummed to herself as she worked, gently murmuring to cats who rubbed themselves against her feet and legs as if to thank her. Samasina purred contentedly as her little mistress put food into the dish she shared with her kittens.

“Trough’s full,” Selvion called as he turned off the water and looped the hose back onto the hook on the wall.

“And I’m just about done,” Thamance called back. She stooped down to give her cat a gentle pat goodbye and carried the now-empty pail back into the kitchen.

Selvion followed her back inside and the two of them washed their hands at the massive kitchen sink. Mistress Creveaux smiled warmly at them as she handed them clean towels to dry themselves with.

“You two better scamper upstairs,” she advised them. “Her Grace has company.” She regarded Selvion gravely. “You ought to know, young Selvion, that it’s your people: the High Shõgon and his household arrived late last night.”

Selvion blinked at this and Thamance gaped in surprise. “I thought they weren’t coming till tomorrow!” the little princess exclaimed.

“Well, I don’t know all the details, Princess,” Mistress Creveaux said, hurrying them towards the stairs. “But they’re here and they’re up in the private dining room already. Run along, you two.”

“It’s just as I remember,” Kanna Forcendi whispered to her twin sister Rinna as they and their little sister followed their mother and grandparents outside of the suite they would be staying in for the rest of the week.

“I know!” Rinna whispered back, regarding their surroundings blissfully. “And I thought that, with us being so little, we wouldn’t remember!”

Kanna smiled as she looked down at the floor which was paved with a brightly polished stone that changed colours with every step. Moodstone, their godmother had called it; it was rare and found only in certain caves in Bellom.

The twins remembered how they had spent much of the third year of their lives here in the Sapphira. It had been, according to their parents, a very difficult time. When they were first sent to Meras, their mother had been heavily pregnant with her fourth child and there was a storm coming — a storm that proved to be one of the most devastating ones in history. Their father had asked his parents to take the twins and their older brother to their estate in Eastern Xylia. But to their father’s great anger, their grandmother only took their brother and bluntly stated that the girls did not count. They had wanted to send the twins to their maternal grandparents in Eno, but there was a storm there, too. Finally, their godparents volunteered to look after them and had flown in just before the storm broke over Rossai.

It had been a happy time for the twins, though they did miss their parents for a while. But Uncle Vendron always made them laugh and Auntie Theone was lovely; their godmother’s parents — the Magistra and Lord Maeston of Bellom — also doted upon them as if they were their own. They cried when their parents came to fetch them home — oh, but there was the happiness of having a dear baby brother to come home to!

Thirteen years had passed since then. The baby brother born at the time was followed by a baby sister three years hence. They’d all grown up and gone to school. Their eldest brother started behaving like a right prat thanks to their other grandmother — and it was too late for their parents to undo the damage. They moved to Peinan when their grandfather became ambassador and their father the consul — only to lose both not so long afterwards. Their mother was devastated; their older brother indifferent so long as he was heir to the Forcendi estates in Xylia. But it had changed their little brother, and the twins grieved that he was forced to grow up too quickly.

The girls walked faster to catch up with their elders and they flanked their mother who smiled rather sadly at them.

“I daresay this place has good memories for you?” she asked them.

Kanna nodded vigorously and Rinna said, “I know Auntie Theone wasn’t expecting us so early, but I hope she baked that chocolate cake of hers. Sorry, Mother; but it’s tonnes better than yours.”

Yamajo-no-Haina de Forcendi managed to laugh at this and she fondly squeezed Rinna’s hand. “It is,” she agreed. “But I still make a better chestnut cake than she does!”

Their grandmother — their O-haama — turned and smiled at them. “It’s good to hear you laugh, Haina,” she told the girls’ mother.

Mother inclined her head respectfully to her. “I feel a bit better now,” she said. “But I’d feel much better if I could see Selvion…”

As if on cue, they heard footsteps scrambling frantically towards them and they heard the cracking voice of a boy yelling, “Slow down, Thamance! For pity’s sake, my grandparents don’t stand on ceremony!”

A beautiful red-haired little girl in what appeared to be a green frock with gold embroidery came scampering into view with a dark-haired boy catching up with her. The girl seemed to skid to a halt when she saw them.

“Princess Thamance,” Kanna murmured to her sisters. “Auntie Theone’s daughter.”

Rinna narrowed her eyes at the newcomers. “Wait, is that Selvion with her?” she asked. Her eyes widened. “It is!”

Their brother gently held the little princess back, murmuring something into her ear. She whispered something back urgently, and he let go of her arm. Walking more slowly, they approached them.

Selvion bowed formally in the Enoise manner and said, “O-Shõgon-sama to O-Jõ-onna-sama, ohayo gozaimasu: kenson’na boku ga kanojo no denka, kōkina josei Bellovre-no-Thamance o shōkai dekiru yō ni shite kudasai.”

The little princess made her deepest curtsey. “Your Majesties,” she greeted them in her soft voice.

Their grandfather, the High Shõgon Yamajo-no-Romaio XX of Eno, regarded the youngsters gravely. Suddenly, he burst into delighted laughter, inclining his head in acknowledgement to the princess before pulling Selvion into a tight bear hug.

“Goodness’ sake, lad!” he boomed in his deep basso profundo. “One would think you were thirty and not thirteen!”

“Sorry, O-yahji,” Selvion managed to gasp from within the tight embrace. When his grandfather released him, he went to hug his grandmother who gave him another tight squeeze, then flung himself into his mother’s arms. “Mother!”

“Here’s my good boy,” she said in her quiet way, gently smoothing his hair.

Selvion beamed at her, then introduced the rest of his family to his friend. “Mother, this is Princess Thamance,” he informed his mother. “’Mance, my mother and sisters.”

Kanna teasingly elbowed him in the side. “’Mance already?” she teased him.

Normally, Selvion rolled his eyes whenever his sisters teased him. To Kanna’s surprise and Rinna’s amusement, he simply smiled and shrugged.

“We understand each other,” was all he would say, though.

Rinna turned to Thamance inquisitively. “Please say you like cats, chestnuts, and complicated machinery — though not necessarily in that order,” she said.

Thamance dimpled, the ice obviously broken. “I like all three,” she replied.

The twins turned to each other and slowly grinned. “I daresay she’ll do just fine,” Kanna remarked.

“There you go,” Rinna agreed.

“I’m Kanna,” Kanna introduced herself. “These are my sisters: my twin Rinna and our little sister Partecia.”

“How do you do?” Thamance greeted them, shaking hands all around.

Their mother and grandmother both crouched down a little, smiling at Thamance.

“You look about the same as your mother did when we were your age,” Mother declared, eyes widening in wonder.

“Though your eyes are green like your grandmother’s,” O-haama exclaimed, pleased. “Green shimmering with gold: you are a true Bellovre, dearie.”

Thamance shyly bowed to the ladies and allowed herself to be hugged. “Mamma says you’re supposed to be my godmother,” she told Mother, “but you couldn’t make it to my Naming because you’d just given birth yourself.”

“That’s true,” Mother said, nodding as she smoothed down a few crumples in Thamance’s skirt. She motioned for Partecia to come forward. “This is Partecia; I daresay you’re older by about a couple of months if I’m not mistaken.”

“Hello,” Partecia greeted her shyly.

Thamance smiled warmly at her. “You look like your brother,” she said cheerfully, linking her arm with Partecia’s and making her feel at home. “Do you like chocolate cake? Cookie said Mamma woke up early and baked a fresh one.”

The twins brightened at this and drew closer. “She loves chocolate cake,” Kanna informed her. “And so do we!”

Thamance giggled at this. “So Mamma tells me,” she said. “It’s why she’s prepared something for the two of you.”

“Cake for breakfast was one of the things I scolded your mother about a long time ago!” Mother declared sternly, but she suddenly laughed. “My girls came home after about three or four months with her and demanded cake for breakfast for a long time after that!”