Matriarch’s Journal: 1st Workday of the Month of Restoration, 3617
One thing that’s always nice about being home – at one of my homes, anyway – is a nice, relaxing bath. Company would improve it, but oddly, Ailann and I have never shared a bath. There’s a decorum, a formality to our relationship even in the bedroom. I’ve bathed with most of the others – dozens of times with Patrick. Tommy prefers the shower. Suibhne brings a rubber duck. The one time I protested that I didn’t want a rubber duck in my bath, Suibhne turned it into a real duck. I really should know better than to ask Suibhne to behave normally.
As I was poaching myself nicely, a piece of paper appeared under the door.
How strange. Ailann would knock if he needed to speak to me. Lady Madonna or Lord Danak would message me first. Clive or Lilith would just barge in. No one else has the authority to disturb me in the bath.
Well, except for Marty. Marty really doesn’t have the authority, but it’s not like I can stop the Twist from going anywhere. I try to keep in mind that to them, all human bodily functions are equally hilarious, from salting an egg to the most perverse sexual act.
I leaned across the floor to scoop the note from the tile. Little plashes of water and soap suds dampened the paper.
The note said: “Dear Lady, I did not wish to disturb you, nor for you to be shocked that Ailann had left. I know you requested Beat, but there is Rivers’ condition to consider. It does not require raw power as much as keenness of vision, and so I was deemed an appropriate emanation to deal with the situation. I am waiting in the sitting room. Yours devotedly, Lens.”
I decided to cut short my bath. I was exceedingly curious about these Yggdrasil emanations. After toweling and throwing on a bath robe, I adjourned to the sitting room. “You don’t have to wait outside, Lens. You’re my husband. It’s just a matter of adding Yggdrasil to the paperwork.”
He stood with stiff formality. His clothes were black and severe, almost clerical in nature, except for his glasses. I had never seen such a strange looking pair. They reminded me of something from one of those ancient steampunk novels, the kind where people fly around in atomic dirigibles. Perhaps sensing my amusement, he removed the glasses and folded them, inserting them into the breast pocket of his coat. He was quite a handsome man, with dark hair and prominent cheekbones. “I am most pleased to make your acquaintance,” he said.
Now I did laugh. “That accent,” I said. “It’s Germanic, isn’t it? German accented Galactic Standard.”
“I don’t know,” he replied, clearly flustered. “It’s just how I speak.”
“Sometimes I think Ash has watched too many Volparnian history vids,” I said. “I’ll get used to it. Please, Lens, make yourself at home. Would you like a drink?”
“Alcohol? I don’t know. I’ve never had any before.”
“Now is a good time to try it, then. I wish I had some schnapps. Vodka, maybe? Or rhybaa and tonic?”
Lens shrugged. I mixed his drink and passed it to him, along with a plate of puddins. “Are you hungry?” I asked. “I was planning to go out to eat, but we can always have something brought up here.”
“It’s fine,” he said. “Whatever you want is fine.”
“Is something wrong?”
“Wrong? Not exactly. I suppose…Axel, Beat and I…we didn’t exactly expect to survive. I’m a bit overwhelmed at this meeting. And lost.” Our eyes met. There was such sadness in them that I was compelled to move closer, taking his hand between mine. “I was not designed to please you,” he continued. “The likelihood of my ever knowing more of you than your locket was not great. But now, I’m not sure what to do with myself.”
“You don’t have to do anything. It will work itself out. I know Ash.”
He nodded. Then he brought the drink to his lips, taking a cautious sip. “It’s good,” he said, “but not as good as the feel of your hand in mine.”
“You’ll be fine,” I said, snuggling closer to him.
“The taste of the drink, it is not really to my liking, but that it was made by your hands makes it the nectar of the gods,” he said. “I think that some of the others only drink alcohol because they want you to mix drinks for them.”
I had to laugh. I’d never thought of that before, but I wouldn’t doubt it. “That’s exactly the sort of logic I’d expect from Ash. But I would like to learn your preferences. I like pleasing you.”
He smiled slightly, turning his face away. I realized that he was blushing. Then he was shy – but in a completely different way from Evan. Lens had the kind of shyness which hides behind cautious reserve. “Let’s have some food brought up,” I decide. “I’d like some quiet time to get to know you.” Actually, I was thinking that what Lens didn’t need now was to be mowed over by reporters. A new emanation always caused a stir; this afternoon’s announcement of humanity’s inclusion in the Combine of Sentients had sparked a feeding frenzy. A combination of the two was asking for trouble, and Lens didn’t seem the type of man who could easily handle publicity.
He nodded, and I could see the gratitude in his eyes. I messaged Lady Madonna with my instructions. What now? How strange this was. It’s hardly like a new husband is an unusual experience. But when Ace emanated recently, he was all charm, immediately filling the silence with his wit. Half-Wynne and half-Driscoll, he was born a socialite.
Lens was different. He really didn’t know what to do. That meant you had really been prepared to sacrifice Yggdrasil. I was beyond angry about that; I felt ill. I knew you meant to protect me: from the Great Dread, from the SongLuminants, from becoming attached to emanations you knew were likely to be lost.
“My lady, are you well?” Lens asked. “You look downhearted.”
“I’m sorry. I’m just thinking that we have to put our plan into action as soon as possible. I can’t stand the thought that Yggdrasil is still at risk.”
“The Denolin Turym won’t attack it,” he replied, stroking my hand. “They are intelligent creatures. After the encounter with Lorcan, they understand that the tree is the source of those emanations. Kill it, and they kill the goose that laid the golden egg. And an attack on the station would risk damaging the Hreck. The logic of the Denolin Turym is to lure us out. They don’t want to kill us before we are absorbed.”
It made sense. “But the Hreck,” I said, “they’ll continue to attack until they receive orders from the SongLuminants.”
“Probably. I would hope that the SongLuminants will act swiftly to avoid unnecessary loss of life.”
“Why don’t I have a lot of faith in that?” I sighed. “Those Advanced Sentients somehow don’t seem very advanced.”
“That’s probably why the Eer-gaaani left. And the fact that they’ve returned now is strictly to observe us.”
“Really?”
“Oh yes. I can see our paths intersecting with the Eer-gaaani on a number of occasions. They’re much more advanced than they let on. Neliit’s form was chosen to evoke complacency on our part.”
“How do you know all this?”
“My spectacles. The left lens can see what the mothman sees.”
Before he could move, I plucked them out of his pocket. “Tara!” he exclaimed. He sounded worried, but this I had to try for myself.
Strange. From the outside, both lenses looked dark gray. But from the inside, the left was clearly blue, and the right rose-colored. The objects in the blue one were subject to halos or a sparkling effect – it looked quite a bit like the first few seconds before Gyre really kicks in. The rose colored side didn’t look special at all – until I looked at Lens. Then there was a sense of absolute focus, but somehow it felt like the focus was backward, and Lens was the one focused on me. I don’t know how to describe this, but I could physically see the quality called n’aashet n’aaverti.
I took the glasses off and slipped them back into his pocket. His eyes were so earnest and full of love. I had promised that with these Yggdrasil emanations, I wouldn’t rush things, but rather take the time to nurture a relationship. Nevertheless, I couldn’t help myself. I leaned over and kissed him.
He was trembling. I wouldn’t have taken him for being this sensitive. When I pulled back, a tear was running from his left eye. “Lens!” I exclaimed, brushing it away.
“I am so sorry! I was overcome. Please give me a moment to compose myself…”
The bell rang. “That must be our dinner,” I said, squeezing his hand. “I’ll take care of it.”
It was Addick Heyan with a rather large service hovercart. Since Lens had no idea of his own preferences, I’d ordered a buffet. There was a working table in Ailann’s study; when we were here on Eirelantra, we sometimes used it to eat when we wanted to be left to ourselves.
By the time Heyan had set up the meal, Lens was looking much better. I took his hand. “Try a bit of everything,” I urged. “Let’s see what you like.”
I decided to go for the good stuff: there were tiny thermal cups with an assortment of ice cream. I chose one which clearly looked to be chocumber; it had a sauce of mooniberries poached in vodka. Lens took the same. “This is very good,” he said.
“Hmmm. I suppose I should let you know that it isn’t customary to eat dessert first. But who the hell is going to stop us?”
He grinned. “I do have some knowledge. I believe that there is often some small course of delicacies followed by a soup or…” he said the word gingerly, “salad.”
“Antipasti,” I said. “I much prefer it.” I indicated a large plate with a choice of various cold sausages, cheeses, eggs and olives. “I’ve always thought that lettuce was an obstacle standing between me and real food.”
He waved his hand quickly. “I have no real objection to it,” he said. “No more so than eating meat or eggs. However, I am told that the word itself has certain pejorative connotations amongst my people.”
He picked up half a green-fleshed egg with a merry swirl of orange-pink in the center. “That’s a deviled marabou egg from Frangfrang,” I said. “They’re delicious, but they have to be chem-stripped.”
Lens looked at it curiously. “Yes. I can see that its chemical composition has been altered.”
“Eco-nuts on Frangfrang insist on living ‘in harmony with nature.’ Which means that in practice, all the agriculture of the planet has to be chem-stripped to avoid causing mutations. It’s a lot easier to find someplace we can terraform.”
“But you don’t have any problem eating Dolparessan native agriculture.”
“Of course not. The Cu’endhari tweak it.”
“That’s a tall order, especially considering that the Cu’endhari are not quite a thousand years in existence…” he trailed off, looking troubled. “But surely there must have been problems in the early days, before many Cu’endhari made the leap. There wouldn’t have been enough of them to care to protect the colonists, or, for that matter, with the knowledge of how to do it.”
I filled a plate and sat. “Interesting point. The other possibility is that Sider’s nectarine contaminated the gene pool. But why would the Arya allow that to happen?”
“The Arya can sense the future, perhaps even better than the Cu’endhari,” he replied. “They must have had reasons of their own. What is this?”
“Smoked sucksow in aspic. Oh, look, I’m eager to try this. It’s Eden-eel sashimi. Sea life on Eden is a new innovation.”
“Davy made this,” he mused. “He made the chocumber and the mooniberries, too. I wish I had that kind of talent.”
“I’m sure you are absolutely perfect,” I said. “It will all become clear.”
“I hope so,” he replied, but his smile was melancholy.