Ecdysis

Chapter 31. Wash Before Eating

The goblet smashed into the floor, spilling wine everywhere.

“What do you mean ‘No’?” Anaise growled.

I shook my head silently: the sudden complications were unfortunately expected. Otherwise, Aikerim wouldn’t have been so busy the last couple of days.

“My mother…” Aikerim paused to find the right word, “is being cautious. Amanzhan did manage to gather a significant portion of Kiymetl Dominas under her banner.”

Once again, all three of us found ourselves in one of Aikerim’s meeting rooms. Doing the most important part of any future negotiations: preparing for them. It didn’t matter if said meeting was done in space among diplomats and Navigators or here in an ancient-like society of mages.

My union with Anaise was undoubtedly a complex topic among the Kiymetl with a lot of underlying problems that came with it. It was no wonder that ‘negotiations’ were in full swing long before I was to meet the Matriarch in person.

The young werfox clenched her fist, warping a nearby plate into a piece every surrealist painter would salivate over. “Then I need to show them I am not a mere Lady of the House anymore. One of many. I have the strength to demand what I want!”

“I already did.” Aikerim lifted her palm with a floating set of runes above. “The entirety of Kiymetl is aware of our new power now. Nevertheless, there is a significant push against declaring your union publicly.”

“Why!?”

“Risk and reward,” I said. “It is not bragging to admit this Manor is already reaping rewards from my presence, both immediate and long-term. What the rest of Kiymetl have are the promises of long-term benefits and immediate risks. Risks that they are not very comfortable facing.”

Anaise frowned. “But weren’t you making these gifts to sway them over?”

Aikerim nodded. “He was. And it would have worked flawlessly a mere tenday ago. There are different risks on the table right now.”

I couldn’t help but sigh. Once the Emanai gods arrived, I expected them to do something…godlike. Descend in gusts of fiery flames and smite nearby heretics, speak in tongues from the skies to proclaim their power. Something. I was wrong.

And I was also right. Said gods have done the most godlike thing possible: nothing. After its emergence, the castle did absolutely nothing but hover. Yet that was enough to stoke the religious fervour in the Emanai masses, spur the activities gearing up for the ritual, and strike some fear into Kiymetl Dominas about a hypothetical murk daimon.

Like a silent warning.

Deep in my gut, I knew that Sophia Chasya was mixed with that somehow. I didn’t know how ‘connected’ the Censor was to the gods of Emanai, but if anyone could contact them it would be her. With some magical prayer or whatnot.

Anaise groaned as she paced through the room, biting her thumb in frustration.

“I noticed you said publicly…so the Kiymetl Matriarch isn’t opposed to it happening in general?” I got up and caught the pacing werfox in my arms, slowly massaging her shoulders. “Nanaya Kiymetl Ayda simply wishes it to remain under the table?”

“Precisely,” Aikerim sighed. “And so far I have been unable to dissuade her from this opinion. From her point of view, Anaise would still get you eventually, while Kiymetl would have enough time to grow stronger with your aid.”

“So she wants the cake and eat it too.” I sat back on my couch and pulled Anaise into my lap. “How likely is it that she expects me to quietly disappear before the final decision needs to be made?”

“She is Kiymetl and merchant blood is in her veins. If you end up as a nobody apart from your recent inventions, the House of Kiymetl would likely deny any connection you had with my daughter. On the other hand, if you manage to prove her wrong, she would be a generous Matriarch that welcomed a bright seedling into her House.”

“A trifle task for him, but that still doesn’t help us now! What if they interfere!?”

“Anaise!” Aikerim hissed and then shook her head. “That is exactly why my mother is unwilling: for her, the risk is too great.”

The werfox in my arms harrumphed and crossed her arms. “And when we need our House the most, they skitter away like scared rats! Remind me why we need them in the first place?”

“Because most of our wealth and power still comes from the name of Kiymetl. Because I would not be able to trade across Emanai and abroad if I were an independent Domina. Because, in their absence, this Manor would be swarming with Collectors of every other House imaginable! They might not help during the Divine Ritual but, without them, we wouldn’t have lasted until then!”

Aikerim’s rebuke poured cold water on Anaise’s ferocity, making the Lady of the House squirm in my lap. Without making too much noise, she quickly settled in and took a few calming breaths. “I apologise: the emotions took the better of me. So, what are our options then?”

Domina glared for a few seconds and then nodded. “I was preparing for this outcome. Despite my mother’s demand not to make it public, the word is already out. This is why I allowed Erf to mention your union to others outside of your sadaq. This is why I intentionally provoked Amanzhan during our meeting to inform the rest of our House about it: not only did it spread the news, it also happened when I was nearby to guide them in a proper direction. The news of your union cannot be contained anymore.”

I scratched my head. “Don’t we need to undergo some ceremony? To make it official in the eyes of Emanai?”

“What ceremony?” Aikerim frowned as Anaise looked back at me in confusion.

“Er…the marriage one?” I tried to remember what I managed to read about wermage customs. “How do wermages join sadaq-at?”

“When their mothers or owners agree to it,” Domina flatly stated. “Since I am both, your union was ‘official’ as soon as I said so. While it is common to hold a feast in celebration, it is not a requirement.”

“Huh…I expected it to be more strict. Not that I mind or refuse, just curious. Don’t you have issues with inheritance?”

“Erf…” Aikerim looked at me like I was an idiot. “I know exactly which children are mine: I gave birth to each of them. Personally. I am not senile to need a scroll to remind me who is who.”

“Never mind…” I shook my head. “Just making sure that everything is covered. What about Esca? Can we use them?”

Just another thing I took for granted. In a certain way, it did make sense: Emanai didn’t have the same issue with inheritance that our mutual ancestors had. There were no kings or chieftains here that wanted to be absolutely sure their wives would give birth to their children. Just as Aikerim said — Dominas had no trouble establishing inheritance. Moreover, with marriages and sadaq-at being established on words and agreements alone, it gave yet another social lever into the hands of Emanai women.

Quick marriages and easy divorces would always benefit the wealthier and more powerful side, forcing the others to stay in line lest their marriage be simply forgotten about.

Anaise’s tail wrapped around me possessively. “We are here to make sure that you stay with me, Erf. I am not going to leave you that easily.”

I gave her a quick smile and shook my head. She guessed correctly what I was thinking about but I wasn’t that worried about our relationship specifically. Apart from obvious mutual attraction and healthy sex life, we both contributed something valuable to our union.

“Esca will not be of significant help.” Aikerim shook her head in contemplation. “Especially during the Divine Ritual. This is not their land. They could, however, influence Amanzhan and her faction. How impressed do you think she was about your new invention?”

I smiled. “I would say very. She wouldn’t have told me about the delegation if she wasn’t extremely eager to spread the news.”

“And that was just from a single one, a spyglass was it? I can just imagine their faces when they see all three. If Kiymetl isn’t swayed by your dowry or cowed by our magic, perhaps it could be threatened by Esca. Eager to lay claim on your gifts.”

“Something to consider.” I nodded. “Especially since Esca already knows of me. While other Manors might guess and wonder at Kiymetl progress, lamuras already know that they need to seek new tools, not spells or runes. It would be a matter of years for them to acquire my inventions and start using them themselves. Might as well give them early and reap the benefits in the process.

“In the meantime, I will continue my work. There are only a couple of days left before The Ritual and I want to see them finished beforehand.”

“You wish to impress my family even further?” Domina frowned. “I don’t think that would be a good idea. If they won’t be impressed by the first three, the rest would look like an act of desperation. You do not want to show them that.”

“No. Not Kiymetl. I’ve done all that I could and, by the looks of it, so did you. The rest would be decided during the meeting. But Albin’s words are still on my mind and so is the castle still in the sky. I don’t think that your gods would see me as desperate if I overdo their gifts. Something like that would be rather expected.”

Aikerim was nodding before I even finished. “At the same time, our House will undoubtedly notice that you have plenty of other gifts up your sleeve. After all, you are likely to meet all other Dominas and Matriarch herself during the Feast and the Ritual.”

Delicate fingers reached out and plucked a grape from a nearby plate. “Just remember — I want to witness them first.”

“Then you should visit the kilns in the afternoon.” I grinned. “They are already hot and who knows what interesting thing would come out.”

Tuk

Sweat dripped from his forehead as he kneaded the clay in his hands, slowly turning it into one even lump. Keivan called it wedging. Tuk’s wrists were on fire but he didn’t stop. He asked to become an apprentice himself and was willing to do much worse just to be able to learn the craft.

Especially since Keivan was busy doing the same thing anytime he wasn’t making plates and bowls. He did it without any effort, but he was a wer and a master of his craft. All clay had to be made even and smooth whether it was reclaimed from scraps, came from the ground, or from that constantly rumbling barrel that Erf had built.

He knew that Keivan was set for life. Other slaves were bringing loaded carts almost daily with different soils inside. Soils that were necessary for pottery according to Keivan himself. And some that he simply shook his head at and murmured ‘Ask Erf whatever this is’. Whatever was happening, there was a lot of silver or even gold cuts spent on it.

The wer’s face remained serene among all this. Whatever was happening, Keivan was getting paid and paid well enough not to care and simply continue working. With time, Tuk could claim a similar position.

As long as he wasn’t expected to make a bunch of tiny trinkets all the time. Keivan had crafted many beautiful pieces already — even allowing Tuk to paint on some of them — but all they ever fired in that new kiln were some squares and cones. At least he managed to understand the purpose of cones from Erf’s descriptions.

Something about the heat and time. It was like baking bread.

The last batch was quite fruitful. The squares came out in vibrant colours: green or yellow, red, or black. Plenty of them were blindingly white, clean like the peaks of Sefid mountains. Even Keivan was surprised at their colour and how they felt to touch. Smooth and unblemished. Tuk wanted to sneak in one of his pieces — a small flower painted on a strip of clay — but Erf specifically told him to wait.

He glanced at the kiln in the corner. The next batch was almost ready. And in that batch also lay his creations. There were plenty of squares again — satisfied with the previous outcome, Erf decided to fire that grey paint for the first time. The same paint that Tuk was using: plenty of these squares had his flowers, birds, and trees drawn over.

“Keep working,” Keivan grunted, glancing at the kiln and Tuk got himself busy. The potter was also curious: there were a few plates inside too.

“Is it almost ready?” A new voice rung through the workshop. Tuk didn’t need to turn around to recognise Erf.

“Indeed, the kiln is cooling down as we speak. We should-“ Keivan’s gasp interrupted his speech. The wer went down on one knee in a hurry. “My Domina! Lady of the House!”

Almost dropping the clay on the ground, Tuk hurriedly followed suit. His heart pummelled inside his chest as he saw the two tails slowly swaying in the air. He tried to swallow but his throat was still dry. This was the first time that he had seen Domina in person, what was she doing over here?

“Perfect, I can’t wait to see the results!” Erf grinned and looked at Domina. “Umm…”

“You may rise,” Domina sighed.

Keivan got up and wiped the sweat from his forehead. “My Domina…The kiln is new and we are still trying it out. Forgive me if what you see is not to your liking.”

Tuk glared at Erf. Was he that eager to brag about it? This was Domina herself! If she were to hate it, all that effort would be wasted! He should have waited a few more days so they could fire plenty of batches and choose the best pieces to present. Yet he dragged the wermaje herself into the workshop!

“Oh, it is all orange.”

He did a double take, the Lady of the House was already at the kiln, glancing through the hole inside!

“Careful, it is hot!” Erf warned, but it was too late.

With a wave of her hand, a glowing plate floated out of the kiln and settled on the table. Four pairs of eyes stared at it as the plate quickly dimmed in the fresh afternoon air. Warm-brown replaced the fire-red only to recede away from the pristine-white.

“Oh!” The younger wermaje smiled. “That is indeed an unusual colour for pottery, so clean and pure. But I am not sure that this…”

She trailed off as the second colour emerged. Not the faint grey that Tuk painted it with, but a deep-blue like the night sky. In lines and patterns that he was quite familiar with. With bated breath, Tuk watched blue flowers emerge among blue trees with blue birds flying everywhere.

“How very Erf of you,” Domina mused and swiped her hand in the air. A sharp gust of wind and the cold plate landed in her palm. Her fingers trailed on the surface. “Sleek and smooth as if it was made of glass and oh so pleasing to the eye.”

Somewhere nearby, Keivan exhaled a shuddering sigh of relief.

“Well, it is similar to glass on the surface. Suffice to say that one does not need to seal it so they can store food or drink inside. Not with oil or fat, nor with tar. Just like a glass container.”

“A glass that is not glass.” She tapped on one of the flowers. “Yet it can be painted on. Am I correct?”

An elbow nudged into his side and Tuk jerked away. “Y-yes, my Domina!”

If Tuk was a wermaje himself, Erf would be burning right now under his gaze. Unfortunately, he was just grinning as if nothing happened. His heart was fluttering inside his chest like a bird caught in a trap.

“Good. I will want quite a few designs made. Plates and dishes with Kiymetl scales specifically. Pick the best that you have and have them painted with symbols of Emanai: Pillars and crescents. Sulla will provide you with good examples of each. Make sure they are made well — they will be Gifts.”

He bowed, deep. “As you desire, my Domina.”

The amber eyes finally moved away from him. “Keivan, was it? How quickly can you make them?”

The wer bowed. “Erf expected that you would ask this: I’ve been preparing stock all this time. With the kiln constantly running, we could have three batches ready in a day.”

“Do so, and you will be rewarded greatly. Ask Sulla if you need more hands and make sure to use only the best quality you could ever make.”

“I will make sure that they would be a fitting gift for a wermage.”

“Wermage? These will be the Gifts to Gods themselves.”

The world started to swim across Tuk’s eyes.

The lump of clay fell on the floor with a thud as Keivan desperately tried to grab the table nearby. “Um, Erf.”

“Yes?”

“I remember you said that in your alchemy workshop you have a drink stiffer than any wine. I think I need that.”

“Ethanol? You need to clean something?”

“No, I need to drink something.”

XXX

While the meeting was a bit stressful for Tuk and Keivan, they needed to grow skin thick enough to continue working with me. It was leagues better to do it in presence of Aikerim rather than some other wermage that wouldn’t necessarily treat them well just because I asked her to.

But the clock was ticking in my head and throwing blue and white porcelain gifts just didn’t feel like enough. I wanted better guarantees of my safety. I still needed to sit down and carve runes into my skinsuit. Possibly ask Yeva or Anaise to help me out just in case. If my gifts ended up insufficient to sate the hypothetical greed of the Emanai gods, I wanted to have as much bark and bite as I possibly could.

And that was why I was heading to the greenhouse. The bio-printer had grown enough to start developing internal wombs and gestate other living tech. These wombs were nowhere close to Lif’s gestation vats but that was all I would have for the foreseeable future. Worst of all, not everything could be grown even now. I still needed Wrena and Isra to advance far enough in metallurgy and machining to have pressurised containers and a hydrogen-helium atmosphere.

I couldn’t help but chuckle. These elements were the two most common ones in space, and my technology reflected that. All organic batteries and generators needed enormous amounts of readily-available hydrogen to fill their superconductive nanotubules. While I could technically start growing them right now, it would likely take centuries to grow even one in this atmosphere.

But I could work on something else right now. Like a dispenser for medical gel or even-

A loud shriek interrupted my thoughts and I took off in a sprint.

That was my mother screaming.

I burst through the greenhouse door, barely ensuring that it would remain on its hinges, and saw her screaming inside. A bloodied knife gripped tightly in her hand. Yeva was nearby, shaking her head.

“What happened?”

“Erf!” She bellowed and pointed down. “Explain this!”

“Umm…” I cast a glance at what she was pointing at. “It is a melon?”

“What kind of Fae melon is that?! Tell me, is this murk flesh?”

I awkwardly swallowed. “No…it is just a meat melon. It’s melon flesh.”

I think I needed to take it slow with living tech. That or I had to hide it better.

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