Riders of the Storm

Chapter 19

ODD.

Aryl didn’t open her eyes, unwilling to lose the scent. Though how could there be dresel cake in Sona?

…because it’s the best day of your life, Daughter…

Mother?

Silence…she must have imagined the voice.

Though when did the pile of blankets the Sona called a bed become one, so comfortable her body was unwilling to move?

And that sound. A wysp, its three voices trilling an end to truenight. Nothing sang in Sona but the wind.

Wait…that was a giggle.

Her hair moved across her face.

Aryl brushed it away. A breeze.

Her hair moved again, this time slapping her cheek.

Not a breeze.

Another giggle.

Aryl sat up suddenly.

“I thought you’d never open your eyes.” Seru’s sparkled like fresh leaves in a sunbeam; her smile dimpled both cheeks. “Honestly, Cousin. I know Sarcs are different but two days?” She was sitting cross-legged on the end of Aryl’s bed. Her black hair, thicker, shinier, peeked over one shoulder, then spilled forward in a flood. “I think poor Enris is going to burst.”

Enris…?

Here! with a rush of joy and longing and impatience and…

Hush! she replied, trying to catch her breath.

I’ve been hushed all this time…along with images of years passing, harvests being harvested, children growing to adulthood, rocks weathering…I’ve suffered! with distinct glee.

“Ezgi pesters me, too,” Seru said matter-of-factly. “Just tell him Husni’s on her way.”

Husni…

I heard!!! Wild excitement.

He heard? Aryl frowned, very slightly. We’re going to have to talk about privacy, my dear Chosen.

I’m all for privacy… images of frankly incredible beds, fields of fragrant grass, even a brief glimpse of a wide branch, quickly dismissed for a simple blanket on snow. Can we be private now?

Hair caressed her cheeks and slipped around her neck. Opinionated stuff.

Seru giggled and bounced closer. “How do you feel? I feel—I feel wonderful.”

Feel. About to say she felt rested, if a little confused, Aryl stopped. “I feel—I’ve never felt like this.” It was true. Her body was aglow with strength. The accustomed aches, including the one in her left elbow, were gone. She wasn’t hungry, or tired, or cold. But she was, she discovered, looking down, different. “I’m lumpy.”

Seru pressed her hands against her own new breasts. “Aren’t they wonderful? And we’ve hips, too!”

“So long as they don’t interfere,” Aryl muttered to herself.

Show me and I’ll tell you…

HUSH! she sent, feeling heat suffuse her face from eyebrows to throat. And elsewhere.

Enris, wisely, didn’t comment. Aryl smiled to herself.

“Is it wrong?” Seru leaned forward, her smile gone. “To be so happy? All those Om’ray, dead. Naryn and the rest—they’re being brave. Most of them. But I feel—” another giggle burst out, rekindling the smile, “—I just can’t feel guilty or sad.”

“Don’t try.” Myris stepped through the door, followed by Husni. “Your happiness is a gift to all of us. If there’s a future, it’s here, with you four.”

“There’s a future,” Aryl said, making it a promise.

How you glow, her aunt sent softly.

“I will have bathing!” Husni declared. “It’s bad enough you, young Sarc, had to go off and Join away from everyone else. At least you had the sense to come home to commence! Now. There will be respect for tradition if I have to hold the both of you down myself!”

Seru peeled herself off the bed. “Yes, Husni.”

Aryl’s hair twitched with annoyance. It didn’t help that she could feel Enris laughing. “There isn’t water to waste—” the words died in her throat as Ziba came through the door with her mother, Taen. Both held a cup in one hand, a cloth in the other.

Then Veca and Juo. Morla and Weth. Oswa and little Yao hovered in the doorway until Haxel swept them both through with her.

Naryn and Caynen.

Oran.

The rest of the Tuana: Menasel and Beko, Cien and Lymin, the sisters and their mother, Stryn.

All wore their best, or what they could find to be their best. All held a cup and cloth. They formed a generally solemn semicircle before the beds, though Yao giggled and Ziba couldn’t stand still.

“Bathing.” Husni ordered. Her face wrinkled in a smile. “Now, show us yourselves.”

Some rituals, Aryl grumbled to herself, she’d have gladly left behind. But they looked so expectant…she stood, dropping the blanket as Seru did the same.

Nods. More giggles. Smiles of approval. Weth squinted but managed a smile, too.

“He’ll be happy.” This from Naryn.

Aryl’s hair picked that moment to express its own opinion, lifting into the air, sliding over her shoulders, generally misbehaving. She would, she vowed as she tried in vain to hold it back, be using a metal net.

Still, her hands lingered on it. There was something about the stuff. No longer hair, really. From pale brown, it had lightened to a red gold. Thicker, longer.

A tendril wrapped around her wrist.

Annoying.

“Get on with it, Husni,” Haxel said. “Or those lovesick oafs will break their way out of the meeting hall.” There was an unusually broad smile on her face. The others, even Oran, laughed.

Aryl picked up the wristband she’d taken off before going to sleep. Before becoming what she was and would be. She slipped it over her wrist and ran her fingers over its smooth lovely design. Enris…

Here. Always.

She smiled to herself. There’s to be a bath…

Not entirely mock dismay. How long will that take?

It doesn’t matter, Chosen of my heart, she sent, with all the love and excitement and joy she felt. We have the rest of our lives.

With a roar of laughter, the Om’ray of Sona soaked washcloths in cups of melted snow and rushed forward to scrub their newest Chosen.

I could help with that…

Soon.