Mickey Reichert - Flight of the Renshai

"You moron," Marisole whispered, and Saviar noticed only her warm breath in his ear. "You're a friend, not a servant."

"I'm both," Saviar said as softly. "And the son of a Knight of Erythane. If I don't show proper respect, I'll get a spanking."

"Bow to me again, and I'll spank you."

Saviar could not resist pulling free and bowing broadly. "Promises, promises."

Marisole glared. Had they been alone, Saviar felt certain, she would have slapped him. And he definitely deserved it.

Prince Barrindar approached Saviar next. Sixteen, shy, and the spitting image of King Griff, he slouched toward Saviar as if embarrassed by his height. Though tall for his age, Saviar looked the younger boy squarely in the nose. The oldest child of Griff's third wife, Xoraida, and the only remaining male heir, Barrindar did not stand out the way Arturo had. Artistic, quiet, and blithely unworried about his future, he seemed almost a study in contrast to his more outgoing half brother. Arturo had chased life with an ardor Saviar shared: hoping to become a general in the charge of whichever sibling took the throne. Barrindar seemed content to let life take him where it would.

Saviar gave the prince a small bow that demonstrated respect without drawing attention, and Barrindar returned the gesture with a friendly smile and a tip of his shaggy, bearlike head. He withdrew to the far wall, and Marisole joined him.

The three youngest princesses came next, in a whispering, jostling group. Barrindar's full-blooded sister, Calitha looked Saviar up and down as if she had never seen him before. Essentially, Saviar realized, she had not. Their paths had not crossed for years, and she was a child then. Now, fourteen, she seemed to suddenly realize he was male. Her deep brown eyes sparkled, and she lowered her lids coquettishly. Then, her eleven-year-old sister, Eldorin, jabbed her with an elbow and whispered loudly, "Quit staring at him." Turning a brilliant shade of red from her chin to the roots of her hair, Calitha ran to her older siblings without voicing a greeting.

Saviar bowed anyway.

Eldorin waved, clearly not understanding her sister's reaction, nor that she had done anything wrong. Saviar gave her another bow, and she skittered behind her brother.

The third of the trio, thirteen-year-old Halika, ran up to Saviar and hugged him. She was the third and last of Matrinka's brood, and she barely resembled the rest of her family. Shorter and thinner, she sported Darris' mouse-brown curls, broad lips, and generous nose.

Saviar held her like a treasured sister, glad she did not excite him as Marisole had. He would have felt filthy and low. Instead, he whispered, "I'm so sorry about Arturo."

Tears glazed Halika's eyes, and her grip grew fierce. "Be careful, Savi. I don't want to lose another brother."

Suffused with warmth at the compliment, Saviar brushed a curl from her forehead. He knew most of the girl's affection for him had to come from Marisole's attitude and stories. As a child, he had spent much more of his time at Bearn castle playing with Marisole and Subikahn. In those days, two years had made a huge difference; he had thought of Barrindar and Arturo as babies. As he grew older, and the Renshai training commanded all of his time, his visits had grown less frequent and shorter. He barely knew the other princesses, including Princess Ivana Shorith'na Cha'tella Tir Hya'sellirian Albar, despite the fact that she was only a half year younger than him, only a few months younger than Marisole.

As Halika reluctantly withdrew and headed for her other siblings, Ivana ran toward Saviar. Her gait seemed simultaneously agile and awkward, as if she might become a dancer should she only first learn to walk. She looked almost animal in her homeliness: her small mouth and nose nearly disappearing behind remarkably chubby cheeks, her eyes canted and reddish-yellow in color, her hair thick and straight, without a hint of wave or curl. Its color was a strange blackish-blond, with highlights that looked red in places, nearly green in others. Her blocky body seemed slightly twisted and hunched. Her arms and legs were short and stout, but her fingers were contrastingly long and slender. She had tiny feet, swathed in toddler's slippers, that barely seemed capable of balancing her bulk. A bit of white froth perched at the corners of her lips.

Ivana loosed a sound that seemed more like a braying mule than human language and lunged into Saviar's arms as Halika had done. Saviar barely had time to brace himself before she slammed into him. He wrapped his arms around her with difficulty and tried to appear comfortable. Only propriety and politeness held him in place. He would have preferred to run from her in terror.

Saviar pressed his mouth to Ivana's shoulders, hiding the revulsion for which he felt desperately ashamed. Not only was Ivana a full princess of the realm, she had once symbolized a great union and the only hope for humans and elves alike. Elves could procreate only when an elder passed on, his or her soul repackaged into the fetus. Violent death meant a soul lost forever, and most of the elves had died in a great explosion. At the time, humans also suffered, from an inflicted sterility plague. When Tem'aree'ay became pregnant with Griff's child, it had seemed the perfect solution to both dilemmas.

Then, Ra-khir, Kevral, Darris, and a few companions obtained the item necessary for the elves to lift the sterility plague. Ivana was born. And everything changed. Repulsed by the princess, nearly all of the elves abandoned the company of humans to live quiet, unseen lives in the forests scattered throughout Midgard. As far as Saviar knew, only Tem'aree'ay herself remained, bonded to husband and daughter by a love that surpassed tribes, species, even near-immortality.

Saviar hoped that one day, he, too, would find a woman who loved him with such consummate and awesome passion, willing to give up everything just to be with him. He knew Griff would do the same for Tem'aree'ay as well, and Saviar craved the kind of love that would drive him to such madness. For, though Griff had married Queen Matrinka to appease the populace, and Xoraida to legitimately father human heirs, his enormous and tender heart belonged wholly to his elfin wife.

To have this creature, Ivana, be the result of a love so obsessive and fierce seemed the cruelest trick. And many considered it a warning: Leave creation to the gods. Only sorrow could come of meddling with it, of starting new species by mingling unlike beings. The gods had revealed their displeasure by punishing Bearn's king with this monstrosity, and all humans and elves should take heed. It was so easy to forget that her conception had once been considered the ultimate miracle, the answer to two of the greatest problems of the universe.

Finally, Ivana released Saviar and joined her siblings at the periphery. Only then, it occurred to Saviar to wonder why his father had gathered the heirs of Bearn to watch him practice, why Halika had cautioned him and worried for his safety. Saviar had greeted all the heirs, yet still an equal host stood, calmly watchful, at Ra-khir's side. A sinewy horde of brunets and blonds, male and female, some of them braided and all of them armed with swords studied his every movement from the sidelines. He knew them all, at least in passing; and he also knew why they took such an interest in him. They were learning him: from the set of his build to the shape, origin, and insertion of every muscle. They were the guardians of Bearn's heirs, the only Renshai currently residing in Bearn.

And they were about to attack him. En masse.

Terror seized Saviar in an all-consuming instant that drove everything into slow motion. The mass of Renshai drew and attacked with a speed that would ordinarily have astounded, yet Saviar felt as if he had all the time in the world to die. Instinct took over, and his own sword rasped from its sheath. Then, fear retreated behind the courage trained into him since birth: to die in glorious valorous combat, to find his place in Valhalla, to fight until he drew his last gasping breath. He would do nothing in cowardice, but neither did Renshai training force him to act a fool.