My Sister's Keeper

"Grymlyken!" Becca shouted. Her bouncers, a baker's dozen pixies cast aside their invisibility, appearing seemingly out of the air around Becca with hands resting on the hilts of their tiny swords. Their determined swarming tactics could be worse than getting hit with a hornet's nest while their dense physical structure made them nearly unsquashable.

Cassana Odaren glanced at the pixies from the corner of her eyes without acknowledging them, but her tone grew grim as her voice went softer and lower. "Tell Aejystrys Mohandon brye Rowan that Cassana brye Odaren and Brendorn arn Rowan, are here to see her. And do it now before I decide to pull this place down around your ears!"

Uncertainty entered Becca's face. She had never heard Aejys' formal Sharani name before. It lent a weight and seriousness to the matter. Furthermore she suspected the woman could more than make good on her threat. But the most doubt-stirring thing was Cassana's name. It matched the scars on her hands. Becca remembered the stories now. Although Vorgensburg had been only on the furthermost periphery of the Great War, if this was indeed Cassana Odaren, then Becca knew that she was not one to be trifled with.

Grymlyken stepped forward, a prancing, mincing motion, his head screwed up to see Cassana better. His eyes widened and his lips formed an exaggerated "O" as he murmured "Omagosh!" Grymlyken frantically yanked Becca's apron. "That's her all right. That's her. That's Cassana Odaren. I saw her during the war. You don't want to mess with her, you don't."

That finished off the tavern master. Becca gasped and flushed. Her large eyes went a little wider, "You truly are Cassana Odaren?"

The question was rudely phrased, a mere tavern master did not address the nobility in that way, even someone else's nobility, but Cassana answered politely. "I am. Now please take us to Aejys."

"She ah… knows you, doesn't she?" Becca's flush deepened.

"I think so," Brendorn answered softly, a small secret smile turning faintly on the edges of his mouth. He could almost feel the touch of her hands, the brush of her lips; see again the strength in her that had always called to him. Even when she had returned home gravely wounded, near death from physical and magical injuries that no one believed could be healed, that same stubborn strength had carried her through. Then before she could recover completely, she had simply fled, leaving behind a note that said it was the best for all of them.

The youngest of Brendorn's companions burst into hearty uncontrolled laughter multiplying Becca's discomfort ten fold and jostling Brendorn out of his moment's reverie.

Becca's eyes slitted sidewise at her, she straightened, took a deep breath, struggled for composure and grimly resisted both an urge to flee and a desire to scream for Clemmerick the ogre stableman to come pound the laughing girl. "Follow me," she said, her voice taking on a prim quality. "You can stand by the door while I announce you, then if Aejys says okay, you can go on in."

They followed Becca up the stairs at the end of the common room, down an oak paneled hall and stopped at an expensively carved mahogany door. All the way up Tamlestari tried to stop laughing, but in spite of everything a tiny snicker or a giggle escaped to plague Becca and draw the disapproving glances of her companions.

Becca glared at the girl, then entered the room.

As soon as the tavern master was out of sight, Brendorn turned and clamped a hand over Tamlestari's mouth. "Try holding your breath," he suggested exasperated. "If Laeoli acted like you I would turn her over my knee and spank her, no matter how old she was."

Tamlestari pried his upper fingers loose and said through the rest of his muffling grip, "Like to see you try." She shifted slightly as if for a hip throw, laughing harder.

Cassana caught the girl by the collar, and then pulled Brendorn's hands away, gently yet firmly. She shook her head at him. Brendorn sighed and stepped back. Cassana took her niece by the shoulders, gave her a small shake. "If you don't stop this," she said severely, "you can spend the rest of the day standing in the Hall while we take care of business. You understand?"

Tamlestari sobered instantly, her eyes dropped, her cheeks grew warm. "I'm sorry, Amita Sana. On my honor, I won't do it again."

"I know you won't," Cassana replied, giving her a hug.

Brendorn stood back, dropping his eyes, and shaking his head at the mercurial young hoyden's sudden change from irritatingly playful to sober and restrained. She had trained heavily as a battlefield chirurgeon during her days in the temple preparing to become ha'taren, one of the consecrated paladins of the God Aroana the Compassionate Defender. Yet, even after her consecration and a series of skirmishes along the border, the young mon remained as unpredictable, headstrong and changeable as ever, childishly playful and impulsive one moment and then mature beyond her years the next. He sighed, reminding himself to be grateful that his own daughter Laeoli had turned out so calm and steady.

He realized suddenly that he had begun to tremble uncontrollably and leaned against the wall to conceal it. Fear that she would simply send them away alternated with a dream vision of finding her in his arms again. He had never been a warrior; never been more than a simple gardener, cherishing his flowers and fruits and he remembered how after coming back from a patrol or fighting she had always looked so happy to just be with him in his gardens - how serene those moments had been and how much he cherished them. And their passion in the night - no, he dared not go down that path until he had seen her; he wanted it too desperately, felt too overwhelmed by need for her.

Aejys, Brendorn murmured silently to himself, maybe we'll finally know why you ran away from us… O! Lord of Woodlands! Please let her say yes. Let her come home again. Life is so empty without her.

GODWAR CENTRAL

My Sister's Keeper