S. L. Viehl - A Diversity of Houses

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2024-12-14 0 0 232.13KB 62 页 5.9玖币
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1
A Diversity of Houses
by S.L. Viehl
“They will arrive today,” Sorel Irea said as he
watched his ClanSister unload the last bale from the
conveyor. “We have never welcomed visitors from HouseClan
Giran before.”
“We have. You are too young to remember it.” Natala
Irea cut open the baling ties and divided the dried yiborra
into three portions before distributing it among the last
of the empty feeders. The smell of the feed grass added a
touch of sweetness to the air. “It is a cause for much
celebration. Our ClanFather must be pleased.”
Her ClanBrother’s young face lit up with happiness.
“He is, I think. He never stops smiling.”
Visitors meant the entire HouseClan would assemble and
celebrate, to make a proper welcome and to present
opportunities for strengthening ties between the Houses
through commerce and trade agreements. Unlike the Irea,
the Giran were known as a wealthy and powerful HouseClan,
with vast land holdings, many ships and much influence with
the Jorenian Ruling Council. The diversity of their Houses
might even lead to some Choices being made.
2
Natala discarded the baling ties and wiped some sweat
from her brow. “Why are you not up at the pavilion,
helping with the preparations?”
“I was sent to fetch more milk from the dairy.” Sorel
hesitated before asking, “Will you not attend tonight?”
The calves shuffled over to the silver-white mounds of
grass with more enthusiasm than they had last week; soon
they could be released with the rest of the herd. She was
pleased with them, though annoyed with Sorel. “You know
the answer to that.”
Her ClanBrother made a face and dug his boot toe in
the dirt. “It does not have to be so.”
She switched off the conveyor unit and went to the
corner pen. Green-Eye, the name she had given to a sickly
runt driven out of the herd by his sire, lay curled in one
corner of the pen. Like all t’lerue, he was square-bodied
and short-necked; his head shaped like a crude, five-
pointed star. There was hardly any fat layer beneath his
gray-green hide, however, and his joints protruded sharply.
His eyes did not match in color, one brown, one green, and
his sireline mark – three red ovals around and above his
left green eye – made the oddity more pronounced. The
contrast would likely fade as he matured.
3
If he matured. She had been hand-feeding him since
she’d found the underdeveloped calf wedged under a water
trough, but he had shown little interest in anything. Her
ClanFather would order me to cull him soon.
You cannot change the path, Natala, Ylo Irea often
said when she was young. Not so much to remind her of her
duty than to reconcile her with the reason for it.
She took a bottle of newborn formula from the warming
rack and went into the pen, and carefully lowered herself
next to the listless calf. She had scrubbed and kept him
clean so he did not stink of waste as he had when she’d
found him. Still, if he did not get up and stand on his
own soon, ground sores would start eating into his hide.
“Drink.” When Green-Eye would not take the artificial
nipple in his mouth, she pushed it in and began squeezing
the sides of the bottle gently to encourage his suckling.
“Stubborn little one.”
Sorel leaned over the gate to watch. “You would
know.”
“I am not little.” Indeed, she towered over Sorel,
and stood several inches taller than the eldest of their
ClanSiblings. After these many years in the yards, she was
also much stronger. “Nor am I stubborn.”
4
“What say you prove my claim wrong and attend the
Welcoming tonight?” He tried to smile and make his
gestures casual when she looked up at him. “It will
be . . . enjoyable. We hardly ever have visitors and we
want you there.”
Natala never entered the pavilion unless summoned, and
no summons would be sent this day. Her ClanBrother knew
this.
“I have great affection for you, Sorel.” And she did,
for despite the gap between their ages, her youngest
ClanBrother had always gifted her freely with the same.
“That is why I ask you say no more, and leave me now.”
“I could speak with our ClanMother.” He gave her a
hopeful glance. “You know how she favors me.”
Natala squeezed the bottle too hard. Green-Eye gave a
weak jerk before he regurgitated the excess formula all
over her trousers. She used the hem of her tunic to clear
his nostrils, and then cradled his head in her lap. “You
must not do that.”
His hope became a pout. “She can be made to see
reason.”
“While you cannot.”
“It is not fair!”
5
“You think it fair to see me summoned before a
visiting HouseClan? That your concept of justice will
convince our ClanMother to present me to the Giran as
potential kin?” She snorted. “I must speak with your
tutors.”
“You know what I say.” He ducked his head. “There is
nothing wrong with you.”
“And yet you cannot look upon me when you say that.”
She stroked the calf’s brow before she rose and left the
pen. “Truly, Sorel, think you our visitors will afford me
the same courtesy?”
“You do not know what will happen. You never come to
see anyone.” He caught her arm and tugged on it. “You are
Irea.”
“While you are no longer a child. Please stop
behaving like one.” She removed his grip. “Go now. I
have work to do.”
Natala kept working, changing the calves’ soiled
bedding for fresh until she heard Sorel pick up his milk
cans and leave through the side entrance. Then she stopped
and walked slowly back to her room. At the pavilion she
had comfortable quarters with many amenities, like all the
ClanDaughters of Ylo Irea were afforded. They had stood
6
empty since her tenth year, when it had been determined
that no more could be done for her.
There is nothing wrong with you.
Sorel’s words had wounded her, as such kindly-meant
things did, and she went to the mirror panel she had placed
on the wall beside her sleeping platform. She looked in
the glass for a long time, until the sight of her own
features calmed her.
You cannot change the path.
Natala had no intention of attending the Welcoming,
where she would never be made welcome. Sorel did not
understand, but she had made peace with her lot when she
was even younger than him. She would stay here, in this
small but quiet corner she had made for herself, where she
could curl up and be left alone.
Never would she give her sire reason to drive her
away.
#
“No one will welcome you unless you remove that scowl
from your face,” Qedalea Giran advised his ClanLeader.
Tavo Giran did not look up from the stock reports he
was studying. “Somehow I doubt that.”
“It would not divert your path to enjoy yourself for
once,” the young warrior said. “I should warn you that I
7
have been given strict orders to see you do more here than
inspect and purchase stock animals.”
“Then I would say your mission is doomed to failure,
ClanCousin.” He advanced to the next page of data.
“What is it you find so fascinating?” Qedalea leaned
over to inspect Tavo’s datapad display. “Irea sirelines,
of course. Why did I not guess it?”
The edge of his stern mouth curled. “Perhaps because
all you can think about is parading nubile young women in
front of my nose.”
“Never – I? Coerce our ClanLeader to Choose?”
Qedalea thumped his chest with an indignant fist. “I am
sworn to protect and serve, not to procure.”
Tavo raised a dark brow. “What say you should I
request such a selection of females?”
His young ClanCousin dropped his fist. “How many do
you wish to see, and when, and where?”
“As I suspected.” He nodded. “My ClanUncle has been
busy.”
“He has been driving me to madness.” Qedalea sighed.
“My days would be far more serene – and quieter – would you
but Choose.”
8
So would mine. Tavo glanced through the transport
view panel and saw a glimmer of white in the distance to
the north.
The Irea were one of the more remote HouseClans, with
lands located in the farthest northern regions of Joren’s
smallest continent. Only three other HouseClans occupied
the landmass, and they were all far to the south. In
addition to this, few Irea traveled outside their territory
as well, and thus the HouseClan had remained mostly cut off
from the bulk of Jorenian society. Some claimed it was
their location that kept them distant, but others thought
the Irea a House of isolationists.
“They say there are no females in the twenty-eight
territories that can compare to Irea women,” Qedalea told
him. “I have seen one myself among the Zamlon and their
beauty was not exaggerated. She was stunning.”
“I would advise you not judge the women of a House by
one face.” To the east, a dark blur moved slowly across a
wide silvery pasture. It appeared to be too large to be
anything but the Irea’s main herd.
“They are said to be very clever as well,” his
ClanCousin added in a hopeful manner. “And fertile – an
Irea woman would give you many young ones, and make you a
fine family.”
9
To replace the one I lost. Tavo needed air and space
around him, and he needed it now. “Driver, stop.” He
tucked placed his datapad in his journey pack.
Qedalea followed his gaze. “Oh, no. You cannot go
and chase through the grass after those creatures. It will
be night soon.”
“I want time to make a proper selection, they do not
run away, and I am not afraid of the dark.” Tavo often
camped out overnight in the fields, and as it was summer in
this region he would not require special gear. “I think I
will sleep under the stars.”
“ClanLeader, you cannot. We are expected tonight.”
The men seated behind them – ten of Giran’s highest-
ranked warriors, who had accompanied their ClanLeader as
escort for the long journey – made sounds of respectful
agreement.
“Cattle are the reason I agreed to make this
journey,” Tavo said, and clapped the younger Giran on the
shoulder. “I will view the herd now, while you and the
others will go on ahead. Think of it as giving us both
time to properly inspect likely candidates.”
“I am assigned to you as bodyguard.” Qedalea folded
his arms. “I cannot do that unless I have your body
present to guard.”
10
“You hate cattle, and I am giving you an order. Tell
the Irea that business delays me.” When the transport came
to a halt, he climbed out and hoisted his pack over his
shoulder. “I will see you at the pavilion in the morning.”
Tavo turned and walked toward the eastern pasture,
hoping his ClanCousin and their escort would not follow.
At last the transport continued toward the Irea pavilion,
and some of the tension that had plagued him since leaving
his own territory and crossing the sea began to ease.
Likely Qedalea’s efforts to secure a bondmate for Tavo
would satisfy many among the Giran. Certainly they would
Qedalea’s ClanFather, who for weeks had been dropping
adages about leadership like small stones on Tavo’s skull.
A ClanLeader must be an example to the House.
Qedalea was right; he should Choose someone on this
journey. The diversity of their Houses was promising; it
was always considered good luck to Choose from a HouseClan
located far from one’s own. Being one of the few
ClanLeaders on Joren who had not taken a bondmate had
proved to be a continual annoyance for himself and
something of an embarrassment to his kin. It would make
everyone’s life more pleasant.
Everyone’s but his own.
摘要：

1ADiversityofHousesbyS.L.Viehl“Theywillarrivetoday,”SorelIreasaidashewatchedhisClanSisterunloadthelastbalefromtheconveyor.“WehaveneverwelcomedvisitorsfromHouseClanGiranbefore.”“Wehave.Youaretooyoungtorememberit.”NatalaIreacutopenthebalingtiesanddividedthedriedyiborraintothreeportionsbeforedistributi...

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