Cast In Fury (12 page)

“I don’t think that’s the right word,” Kaylin replied.

“Actually, Kaylin, it
is
the right word,” Kayala told her. “They thought it was twisted, and wrong. A small group of the older Leontines—by which I mean those who conform to the Elders, because some of them were young enough to damn well know better—came to see us.”

Kaylin thought about this for a couple of minutes. “Wait, they came to see you here?”

“Yes.”

“And they were all women?”

“Ah, you understand. No, in fact. None of them were women.”

“But you wouldn’t even let Severn in—”

“Not with his genitalia intact, no.”

Kaylin blushed, and Graylin frowned. “Why are you doing that?” she asked softly.

“Well—it’s—”

“You’ve said much, much ruder things at our table.”

“No I haven’t!” Kayala retorted.

“Yes, you have. You’ve said—”

“Graylin.” Kayala lifted a hand. “Very often, when one curses in a different tongue, it doesn’t feel or sound the same as cursing in one’s own. And Kaylin’s colorful phrases all mean the same thing. She’s tired, hungry or angry. And this is why it’s hard to tell you anything. There are always interruptions.”

“But—”

“Yes. It was wrong, and it was dangerous. We could not, of course, allow them into the Pridlea.”

“Wait—is that where Reesa’s scar comes from?”

“Yes,” Reesa said, with an entirely self-satisfied grin.

And she had thought it odd when Severn had become so completely
still.
She hated that she could feel so bewildered about people she’d seen for so much of her life. “So they went away?”

“They went away. However, they claimed that Sarabe was being ill-treated in our Pridlea, and they demanded that she leave with them.”

“They said that with straight faces?”

“Bleeding faces, more or less,” Reesa replied. “But if you mean were they serious? Yes.” She shook her head. “We realized at that point that we had come to a crossroad. So we talked among ourselves, and then we informed Marcus of our decision.”

“Which was?”

“He could make Sarabe his wife,” was the prompt reply.

“Or what?”

“There was no or.” Reesa grimaced. “Marcus wanted to anyway,” she told Kaylin. “He’d wanted to for at least two of the three months—believe that we could smell it. But he felt that Sarabe, with no Pridlea to barter for her, was not in a position of strength—he feared to take advantage of her situation. Sometimes he thinks too much.”

“And Sarabe was okay with this.”

Sarabe smiled. “I was overjoyed,” she said, and she looked it, just remembering. “I loved the Pridlea already, and I was terrified of the day I would have to leave it. I didn’t expect it,” she said, “but I wanted it. I wanted to stay with these women. I wanted to help build a home for that man.”

Kaylin gave her a few minutes before she asked the obvious question, the one that would chase the memory away and leave shadows and fear. But she was here to ask that question, or ones like it. “What happened to your sister?”

The quiet was subdued and, yes, shadowed by a different kind of memory. “Understand that with the death of my father, the Pridlea lost its focus,” was her reply. “He had only two wives, the others had either abandoned him or died.

“But he had friends, some of them powerful, or we would never have lived beyond our birthing. My mother was gray,” she added, “and it was not known until we were born that she carried the taint.

“When my mother died, my father had only one wife, a younger wife. When my father died, she was alone. But she was not without choices.
We
were. She could join another Pridlea, or she could seek shelter with her sisters in theirs—but she could do neither with both of us.

“Marcus offered to help her, and she acceded. She allowed me to come to live here, while she attempted to find better arrangements.”

“Which she knew she could never find on her own.”

“I believe that was the way she thought. My sister, however, did not choose to accept Marcus’s invitation. She was excited,” Sarabe added, “because she thought she could find a Pridlea of her own.”

“With who?”

Sarabe was silent.

Kayala was also silent. It wasn’t the same type of silence, but clearly, Kayala was waiting for Sarabe to break it.

“A friend of my father’s. He did not, of course, visit—that is a human custom and it is an odd one to us—but there are public places in which we meet our father’s friends. It is often the same place in which we might meet our future husbands or wives.”

“He approached my aunt and offered her a home for both my sister and I.”

“But you came here.”

“Marcus asked first,” she said, perhaps a bit too quickly. “But…I had met both men, and I had also met Kayala and Reesa and Tessa. Graylin doesn’t leave the house much. I liked his wives,” she added.

“And this friend you don’t name had wives you didn’t like?”

“He had no wives.”

The idea of an adult male Leontine with no wives momentarily deprived Kaylin of speech. Luckily, she was good at recovering from that particular setback. “He had
no
wives?”

“He was not lucky,” she repeated with great care. “And he had lost two wives. He did not originally come from the city, but he was known here, among those who drift in from the outlands. He is respected,” she added, again with care. “And I would tell you his name, but I do not think you would recognize it.”

“Fine. So, nameless male friend with
no
wives asks your aunt out of the goodness of his heart if you would like to live with him. Your sister says yes. You say no.”

She nodded. “I tried to change her mind,” she added. “We argued. It was a bitter argument. In
this
Pridlea, they argue
all
the time, but…even though they argue, they still know they’re on the same side. They still have many of the same goals.

“My sister and I never argued. We knew, growing up, that we had only each other. So when it came time to make the choice, it was…bitter.”

“How bitter? Not speaking to each other bitter?”

“She would not speak to
me,
” was the slightly more heated reply. “But I had everything, here. They treated me like one of their own. I was happy. I was afraid of the happiness,” she added. “Because sometimes you lose things, and it’s best not to want them too badly if you don’t also want the pain. But it’s hard to be afraid in this house.”

“Say that to Marcus,” Kaylin replied with a grin.

“I will. When this problem is sorted out, I will,” she said firmly. “I wanted her to have what I had. She wanted me to have what she had.”

“So she went to live with this man, but not as a wife.”

“No.”

“And she was pregnant how?”

There was a shocked silence.

“And you blush at what Kayala says?” Graylin’s brows, already of a color with her fur, seemed to have disappeared entirely.

“Did I just say something no one else knew about?”

“No,” Kayala said, her voice as warm as winter rain. “We knew. Of course we knew. But…you do not understand her position. She has never formally been taken or accepted as wife. She has no Pridlea and she cannot begin to form one without that recognition. Even if everyone knew—and very, very few do—she would be shunned by mothers such as
I,
because to send your daughters into a house with no
Mrryn
is to send them into chaos.”

“Mrryn?”

Reesa laughed at Kaylin’s pronunciation, and Tessa chuckled, clucking. Given their reaction, Kaylin wondered what she’d actually said, because she was pretty certain it wasn’t what she’d tried to repeat.

“Matriarch,” Kayala supplied in Elantran. “I don’t like the word—my wives are
not
my daughters—but I think it is as close as you Elantrans come to understanding my role.” By Elantran, she clearly meant human, but Kaylin didn’t bother to quibble.

“When the men are young, they fight, they want sex, but they care only for their own opinions of each other, and in the wrong mood, they pee on everything.

“But when they are more mature, they come to understand the value of a home, and of cubs. They understand that we are not interested, in the end, in the opinion of their male friends—or in any male opinion that is not their own. And they
choose
to leave the world of men when they choose a wife. There are rituals that are still performed in older tribes, in which the men must prove their worth. Some do not survive it. Some do not complete the rituals because they are not yet ready to do so.

“But those that prove worthy make a home, and they give it to us because they must trust us. We build it for ourselves and for our husband. What happens beyond the hanging is private, and I am sure that Pridlea differ widely. But the men are willing at that point to confine their behavior. They turn away from their youth. It is a statement of intent, Kaylin. It is a public statement.”

“But you don’t even allow other men to visit—how public can that be?”

“Never mind. That is a long discussion, for later. I’ll let Sarabe handle it, because she’ll certainly have to explain it to her daughters soon enough. I merely mention it because—”

“This mystery male didn’t make that statement.”

“No.”

“And you think he’s still grandstanding or peeing on fountains.”

Kayala grimaced. “Marcus told me to watch my tongue around you, kitling. It seems he knows you well. Of all the words to fasten onto, you choose those ones.”

Graylin said, “Not all of our men marry. And no, the ones who do not choose a Pridlea do
not,
as you say, pee on fountains. Or in them. Or anything like it. But…it is not a world for a kit. It is not the world for one who
wants
a Pridlea. Do you understand?”

“So wait, there are women who don’t want one?”

“Yes.”

“And they don’t have one.”

“No.”

“But—”

“Some are like your Marrin. They build family, rather than bear it. Marrin could not be wife to anyone, ever. She will not give up her adopted cubs, and she will not trust other Leontines with them. I think she’s wise,” Kayala added, “and I like her a great deal. But she has chosen a different life.”

“She doesn’t kill men on sight, no.”

“She doesn’t have to. Her kits are human, and they must live a human life; she makes certain they live well while they are with her, and she makes certain they are doing well when they are not. They are her only concern. She has no room for any other.”

“What about the other women?”

“Some of them live alone, in isolation, as many of the unmarried men do. It is…not an easy life. But some prefer it. Not all Pridleas are gentle—not all are sane. Some women have tried marriage and found that they felt trapped by it, suffocated by it. A good Pridlea is a blessing. A bad Pridlea is worse than none at all. And there is no way to determine which is which before you enter it.

“You may, in time, meet women who are not married. I do not think Marcus will expose you to his friends, but I am not certain. You’re human,” she added, as if this weren’t obvious, “and their instinctive reaction to you is not the same as it would be to us.”

“I don’t want to know.”

“No, kitling, you don’t. But we are relying on you. We speak to other wives, of course, but we cannot depend on them to travel or to talk to other men. When you do—if you do—take Corporal Handred with you.”

“The one you wouldn’t let in here with his balls.”

Kayala hissed. “I
will
watch my tongue around you, kitling. Or injure you. I haven’t decided which. Yes,
that
Corporal Handred. He would die for you. But he would also kill for you. He will not hesitate if he sees the need. Marcus will not be able to protect you here, for obvious reasons.”

“I don’t need a lot of protection.”

Reesa laughed. It was a lovely, growly sound. “None of us
needs
protection on our own, Kaylin. It’s not because you’re fangless that Kayala says this to you. But there are situations in which it is better to be surrounded by your kin.”

“He’s not my—”

“The Hawks are all your kin. We do not feel weak when we say we need the Pridlea. Do not feel weak when we say you need no less.”

Kaylin nodded. “I’ll try,” she said. “Old habits. But Sarabe, your sister?”

“She became pregnant. It was only then that she spoke to me.” Sarabe looked at the table, where several sets of claws were making new marks. Not that it was easy to tell, there were so many old ones. “I was shocked. But I was not entirely surprised.” She hesitated for another moment. “She begged me to tell no one, and I agreed.”

“You told everyone here.”

“Oh, that—that doesn’t count. She could no more ask me to keep secrets from my wives or husband than she could ask me not to breathe. She knew I would speak to them.”

Kaylin thought for a moment. She chose her words as carefully as she could. “Sarabe, you and your sister were born—”

“Yes.”

“I mean—”

“I understand what you mean. When I became pregnant, I was taken to the Elders, and the pregnancy was registered. There was some argument about it at the time. So many angry men,” she added. “But Marcus took the oath, and convinced the others that if his litter contained any boys, he would kill them and bring the Elders the body.”

“Oh.” The idea of Marcus killing was nothing new; the idea of Marcus killing a
baby
was, and Kaylin didn’t like it. At all. She struggled to keep her voice even. “She didn’t do that.”

“No. She didn’t. It would have been difficult for her to do so, given the circumstances—but even in these circumstances, it is required by our laws.”

“She had her baby in secret.”

“Yes.”

“But she had a boy, Sarabe.”

The silence was utter and profound. It robbed the room of color and movement.

“Did Marcus know this?” Kayala asked at last, breaking the silence.

Kaylin started to say yes and stopped. “I don’t know.”

“He didn’t explain any of this to you.”

“Well, no.”