Serial, Kherishdar's Exception, Episode 7: Family

Episode 7: Family

      The room across from Shame’s study was a private family room—by that I mean it had a door. The first floor was organized around the tsuni, the great room, a large space open to the foyer, the kitchen, and the gardens, and that was typically where everyone gathered for pleasure. But the principals of the House were accorded some privacy, partly from custom and partly because Shame was the sort of man who needed solitude, and by some unspoken agreement this room had been set aside for him and his ajzelin. I had not realized how long Shame’s Guardians had been with him, to develop that silent speech—you remember the word, yes? Banaj? The non-verbal communication between people who are close?—but they worked seamlessly together. The arguments I expected a new household to have over everything from who got which bedroom to who needed more space just… didn’t happen. There was bickering, of course. But it was minor and temporary. I found it uncanny. Maybe that strangeness was inevitable: Shame’s Household, in the house built for the First Servant.
      (Say it with me now, aunera: House, eqet; house, gadare. We must learn to speak to one another together.)
      Despite being Head of Household, Farren stamped everything less indelibly than Shame. I had accused him of being an artist, and in his own world… and he was. Thus the tray brought behind me in the hands of Qevellen’s chef, who was making soft disapproving noises under her breath. She was a fierce middle-aged woman who did not at all approve of Farren’s preoccupation and Shame’s frequent absences. I found it amusing, seeing her hover over two such errant charges. Fortunately they did as well, though if they hadn’t the quality of her cooking might have won them over anyway.
      “I have arranged dinner,” I announced as I entered. “As I’ve heard someone is in need of it.”
      “And snacks?” Ajan hoped.
      The chef set the tray down. “For you,” she said to Ajan, Abased. “And the others. Yes. Appropriate to the time of day. For the Head of Household…” She eyed Farren severely. “Something a little heavier.”
      “I am sorry,” he told her. “I was—”
      “Distracted.” Kor, amused. “Thank you, irimkedi.”
      She bowed and withdrew, leaving me with the sight of them.
      I had never expected to be one of the principals of this new House. To be part of Qevellen would have been enough. But there had been some alchemy when Ajan had nearly died on the colony world, one that had sewn us all together: Kor, fighting his grief at Ajan’s bedside. Lenore, translating at a speed I couldn’t follow, save in fragments. The aunera, working so hard to save him. Ajan himself, attenuating. That hell had lasted forever, so much forever that the moment I exited it, I began forgetting what it was like to live there. By now I had only faded memories of it: the clean, harsh scent of the room. The alarming noises made by the machines, shrill or buzzing, intrusive. The dents of Lenore Serapis’s knuckles, straining against golden skin as she fisted her hands.
      Living through that demolished the barriers that might otherwise have taken years to overcome. I had begun that night as a wary antagonist to the osulked’s aims in Qenain, and ended it one of their allies. No one had looked askance when Ajan had first drawn me into this room for the dareleni. I was Haraa, who belonged there. That was all.
      Ajan was at the foot of Kor’s chair, one knee up, the other stretched out, all youthful indolence and that absurd grace of the Guardian caste, suggesting strength and vigilance even when at rest. He was watching the ajzelin as they hovered over the tray, Farren making uncertain noises, Kor uncompromising in his suggestions. Ajan grinned at me, looked heavenward as if to ask the gods for patience. I smiled, head lowered, and settled on the hearth. There would be no fire in it until autumn, but it was a high enough perch to raise me from the floor without forcing me into a chair. I hated chairs. They confined me too much.
      “Did your errand go well today, Haraa?” Kor asked when at last Farren had been chivvied into his meal.
      “Errand?” Farren asked.
      I pressed a hand to my sash, feeling the envelope crinkle. Sensing the letter. “I have a pass to go, and His blessing.”
      “Oh!” Ajan said. “You’re leaving, then?”
      “Tomorrow. There’s no use waiting.”
      “Tomorrow!” Farren exclaimed, nervous hands falling still alongside the bowls. “But so soon? And back to the colony world. Haraa, are you certain?”
      “Yes,” I said. “Because I can’t be certain unless I go.”
      “Eat, azjelin,” Kor said mildly. He brought out the board for District and started setting out the painted pieces. Such good hands, Shame’s. Goddess, but I had fallen into a house with such darhefa. You say eye-candy, aunera. Darhefa. Distracting. I’ll explain that later.
      “Are you taking anyone with you?” Farren asked. “Shem maybe? Varon? Ajan, you might accompany her—”
      This, though, I had to stop before it went further, but I no longer knew how to have these conversations. I had been a child since I’d last needed to disagree with family, and the rules for children are different. I tried for courtesy. For reason. “I wouldn’t want to pull them from their duties when I don’t know how long I’ll be gone.”
      Farren’s ears sagged. “You don’t know when you’ll be back?”
      “Pick a time,” Ajan muttered.
      Kor said, “That would make things easier. The Ashumel shouldn’t be congested this time of year. Perhaps a week and a half? With travel time, it would give you a week there. Sufficient to orient yourself, begin to sense the scope of your duties.” He glanced at me, just a flick of his light eyes, such a schooled expression to be so clear a suggestion.
      “A… week and a half sounds good,” I said. And then, reasserting myself, “But I’m going alone. There are Guardians there, and I’ll be staying on the Ai-Naidari side of town. I won’t be in any more danger than any other Ai-Naidari visiting.”
      This time it was Farren who got the significant look from Kor, and who returned it with a mutinous one.
      “I guess we’re playing District tonight?” Ajan said, interrupting their tacit argument. “What season are we starting in?”