Mickey Reichert: Flight of the Renshai

"Yes, he is." Ra-khir encouraged, "What changed your feelings?"

"Calistin." Saviar could not take the edge from his tone as he spoke the name of his tormentor.

When nothing followed, Ra-khir said, "I need more."

Saviar bit his upper lip, suddenly ashamed about raising the subject. Ra-khir was as much Calistin's father as his own. An attack upon one's child required a defense, regardless of the accuser. "I'm sorry, Papa. I'm putting you in a difficult position."

Ra-khir smiled. "I'm a Knight of Erythane married to a Renshai. I live for difficult positions."

Saviar also grinned. "Clearly." He loved his mother with all his heart, but he also knew how challenging she could be, especially for a man of such high and exceptional honor. As his own thoughts began turning to women, Saviar had taken to wondering how Kevral had managed to entice not just one good man, but two, to care so deeply for her. Subikahn's father had also once proposed, and the rumor was that she had so badly broken his heart that he refused to court again. Only the Renshai trained its women, as well as men, to warcraft; and the ferocity of Renshai women confused and frightened most ganim, the word Renshai used to refer to outsiders.

The enduring relationship between his parents confounded most people, but never Saviar. Usually a relentless taskmaster of a torke, Kevral softened visibly in Ra-khir's presence, and he never failed to make her smile. In the privacy of home, and on voyages beyond the Fields of Wrath, they held hands like adolescents in the throes of first love. The knight still called his wife the most beautiful woman in the world, with clear and undisputable sincerity, no matter how sweaty and dirt-streaked she appeared. The looks they gave one another defined love in its purest, rawest form; and it spilled out to encompass their entire family.

"So," Ra-khir pressed, not as easily sidetracked as his son. "What about Calistin changed your feelings?"

Saviar knew generalities would not suffice. His father would need some indication that he had thought through the matter and had a legitimate concern. "I guess it's his decision to keep smacking me in the head-and not just with the flat of his sword. He actually uses his accomplishments to… to demean me."

"Is it possible you think Calistin does well only to make you look bad?"

Saviar did not believe it had become so specific and personal. Sometimes I wonder if he doesn't do well just to make everyone look bad.

He kept the thought to himself. Voicing it would make him sound petty and childish. "Not at all. I don't even mind him crowing about his achievements. It's not modest, it's not what an honorable man does, but he earned them."

Ra-khir leaned forward and nodded encouragingly.

"But does he really have to tack on how little I've accomplished in comparison?"

"Of course not."

"I'm trying to concentrate on the maneuvers I need to know for my testing. If he would at least distract me in ways that help me perfect what I need to know, instead of constantly trying out his new inventions and interests or things to improve his own swordwork." Saviar studied his father's features to ascertain how Ra-khir was handling this information. As he appeared reflective and interested, Saviar continued, "Under the guise of helping me, he's only helping himself. And undermining my confidence."

Ra-khir wiped his forehead with the back of a gloved hand. Like all of the knights always did, he wore the blue and gold of Bearn as well as the black and orange of Erythane. "Have you told Calistin this?"

Saviar turned his gaze to his own hands, the nails filthy and broken. Blood traced the creases of his right palm. "I've tried." He sighed. "Papa, I love him because he's my brother. But, if he weren't, I don't think I'd even like him."

"Does anyone? Outside of our family, I mean."

The question caught Saviar off his guard. He looked up to meet his father's emerald gaze. "They all think he's awesome. The ultimate Renshai. The Colbey Calistinsson of our time."

"But do they like him?"

"I…" Saviar did not know how to answer. "I… don't… really know." He tried to divine his father's purpose in asking such a question. "Does it matter?"

Ra-khir's brows rose. "To Calistin, it probably does."

"Maybe." Saviar was not so sure. Calistin did not seem to care what others thought of him personally, so long as they envied his sword skill. "Papa?"

"Hmmm?"

"How can two brothers be so completely and utterly different?"

Ra-khir laughed. "How similar are you and Subikahn? And you're twins."

Ra-khir had essentially made Saviar's point. "Subikahn and I are half brothers, actually. And, yet, we're still more alike in personality than either of us is to Calistin. And we're close enough in age to practically be triplets."

Ra-khir shrugged. "Look at the princes and princesses of Bearn. They're as disparate as Bearnides get."

Once again, Ra-khir appeared to be arguing the wrong point. "But, Papa, they have three different mothers. And some have a different father, too."

"What?" The word was startled from Ra-khir.

"Prince Barrindar and the princesses, Calitha and Eldorin are King Griff and Xoraida's children. Princess Ivana Shorith'na Cha-tella Tir Hya'sellirian Albar…" Saviar prided himself on knowing and pronouncing the full elfin name, though the populace knew her only as Princess Ivana. "… is the offspring of King Griff and his elfin wife. Princess Marisole, Prince Arturo, and Princess Halika are Queen Matrinka's children. All three of them were clearly sired by Bard Darris."

Ra-khir's tone turned stiff. "That's not common knowledge, Saviar."

"I'm not speaking it commonly."

"You won't?"

"Of course not. Was I raised by fools?" Saviar turned his father a wicked grin.

Ra-khir released a pent-up breath, ignoring the question. Addressing it would require him to defend or damn his own intelligence. "Who told you?"

Saviar rolled his eyes at the ridiculousness of the query. "Anyone with a reasonable education knows how the bardic curse gets passed. The bard's heir is always the firstborn child of the bard. In this case, Marisole." He shrugged. "Once I realized that, I started looking. Only Halika didn't inherit Bard Darris' snout-"

"That's not nice, Saviar."

Saviar ignored the interruption to finish his reasoning. "-and she's too normal-sized to be the product of two massive Bearnides."

"Queen Matrinka is not massive. She's-"

"-big-boned and curvaceous," Saviar finished. "My point stands." Suddenly realizing his father had sidetracked him, Saviar added, "Both of them. Brothers of full blood should not be as different as Calistin and me."

Ra-khir said nothing for several moments, which surprised Saviar. The older man could easily argue that the physical resemblance between Saviar and Calistin was real enough that complete strangers sometimes recognized them as relatives. Saviar knew plenty of examples in his own life of siblings who bore few or no similarities in appearance or temperament. An intelligent boy with a dupe for a brother. A runaway-wild girl with a painfully timid sister. Saviar even knew a set of twins, one with striking dexterity, the other laboriously clumsy. Mothers seemed to love comparing their children to one another, sometimes labeling them as the pretty one, the obedient one, the nice one. Siblings often turned out remarkably different, yet Ra-khir did not resort to these familiar examples. Either Saviar's deduction about the royal siblings utterly disarmed him, or he was hiding something else.

The latter thought raised Saviar's suspicions. "You know something about Calistin, don't you?"

Ra-khir answered with a touch of defensiveness. "I know everything about Calistin. He's my son."

"Something," Saviar pressed, "that you haven't told either of us."