Luxury

Braph held up two crystals – one between flesh thumb and forefinger, the other between leather-encased digits – tilting them to catch the light at different angles, seeking some difference in their shades. The one from purely Orin’s blood was, as usual so dark it looked black in all but the most direct light, and only if angled just right could a deep, deep purple be glimpsed. The other, collected from Orin while Orinia supplied syringefuls of her blood purely for her son’s delight, looked … exactly the same. Sigh.

He shouldn’t be surprised, but he’d dared hope, and all that had done was left him disappointed. This was a crystal made from half of the blood in Orin’s body, infused with just two syringefuls of his mother’s blood. Of course there would be little difference. No. What he needed was another chair so he could have Orin in one, a Syaenuk in the next, and condemned riffraff in the third, allowing Orin his constant supply and Braph something truly next level. Now, there was a vision.

In the meantime, his next best option was a sap crystal. He rested a hand on a soft ball of thickened sap sitting on his bench in the round-bottomed collecting bowl in which they had carried it back from Taither. More than a handful, he placed the pure Immortal crystal down and let his palm and fingers sink into it slightly and was rewarded with a flush of wellbeing.

Beside him, Orin sat, toying with one of the mechanical blood-collecting devices, flicking its lifeless leg with one hand while stuffing his face full of pastry and stewed apple with the other.

Braph screwed up his face. He hadn’t made a habit of allowing the child to eat in his workshop unless he was seated in the blood-letting chair but, well, rules were broken when it came to settling the family into a new routine, and keeping an Immortal on side.

He placed the other crystal down, opened the draw to his crystal-making machine, then gathered up the sap ball and rolled it between his hands until one end resembled a sausage. He fed it into the space where he normally poured blood, shaping the rest of the ball and pushing it in so it filled the cavity much like blood as he could manage.

“When’s ma getting out of the bath? I want more blood.”

“I think you’ve had enough from your mother.” Braph used a small plunger he’d fashioned to push the sap into the machine, forcing it to fill the space blood would. The machine was build to withstand the pressure it generated. Doubt only lingered in whether the sap would emerge in the shape required for his arm cuff.

“But—”

“But nothing.”

“If not from ma, where can I get more? It feels real good, and don’t you want to try for an even stronger crystal? Can you make me one?” Orin filled his mouth again, chewing loudly around the sticky treat, blowing pastry flakes onto Braph’s bench.

Braph breathed through simmering rage and closed the machine. While he would rather Orin didn’t blow food everywhere, he couldn’t bring himself to send a likely-moody Immortal child into some unsupervised corner of his house. Sometimes compromises had to be made.

Orin swallowed, licked a finger and dabbed at some of the flakes, sucking them from the tip. “Can we get an Ajnai here? How fast do they grow?”

“They are indeed quick growing. Replenish my crystal supplies and I will take a trip to gather seeds.”

“Will we have to go with you again?” Orin’s voice threatened to whine.

Blessedly, “No. I can make the journey and return within the day.”

Braph cranked the knob to seal his machine fully, then eased the lever allowing some of the hot water that flowed constantly through pipes all over his house to flow into the chamber where it would soon be super-heated to steam, while watching the dials for signs of weakness in the system. When all seemed well, he opened up the flow fully.

The door to the workshop opened, admitting Orinia wrapped in a robe, hair swaddled in a towel, and a subtle, yet blissful smile alighting her face to which some of her youthful glow had returned in her weeks free from the Turhmos Aenuks cells.

“What is it about hot water straight from a tap that surpasses a bath poured from buckets so?” She practically purred as walked right up to Braph and slid her arms over his shoulders.

“It’s that luxury of being able to extend the experience by simply turning the tap again,” Braph murmured. She had been up in the washroom for some time. He didn’t mind. It had certainly done her good.

“That must be it.” She lowered her lashes and lifted her chin to align their mouths, welcoming him in for a kiss.

On contact, Braph’s lips burned.

“Ah!” He pulled back and fired magic through his system to settle the pain, though healing from an Aenuk burn was limited. Anger heated him. He stepped back, running his fingers across his lips.

“Sorry.” Orinia reached for him tentatively, restraining herself from actually touching him. “Sorry. I hadn’t healed since giving Orin some blood. I’m so sorry, love.”

Despite the anger seeking to lash out, Braph waved her off. “It’s fine.” It wasn’t.

He turned to his machinery, reading dials for signs of progress.

“I’m so sorry, Braph.”

“It’s fine! Just—” Braph breathed away that snarl. “I’ll fix it. We’ll grow an Ajnai, and … I’ll get another Syaenuk.”

Orinia stood watching him. Braph faced his machinery, watching her back out the corner of his eye. Her mouth opened slightly, but she said nothing.

“Go and tell Maura to bring Orin more snacks.” Without waiting for Orinia’s compliance, Braph turned to Orin. “We must replace the crystals used in Quaver.”

“You’re going to bring me my own Syaenuk?” Orin released the mechanical critter he had been holding and jumped from the workbench seat.

Now Braph met Orinia’s gaze. “Objections?”

Orinia shook her head almost imperceptibly. “For a greater good, right?”

“Of course.” Braph stopped himself from mentioning the peace assured in the culling of Kara he’d already achieved. “My brother will soon be dead, and Llewella unmoored, at great risk of causing monumental damage. She should be with her family. And she’s already been providing blood to my brother, surely she will do the same for her own.”

Orinia grew reflective and turned to where Orin was getting himself comfortable in the blood letting chair, placed a hand on his shoulder. “I regret I barely got to be a mother to you.”

“But dad always told me about you, and why you weren’t around. I knew you loved me.”

Orinia lit up at this declaration. Braph, too, felt an inner warmth in his success at saving that relationship.

“I had more opportunity with Llewella, and yet she was always her father’s daughter, always under his feet and by his side when he would allow her. A forge was no place for a child, and yet she resisted being elsewhere. I did my best for her, but she wasn’t the easiest to love.” Keeping her hand on Orin, Orinia looked back at Braph. “Perhaps the best a mother can do is keep the rest of the world safe.”

Braph saw no reason to risk derailing Orinia convincing herself of the rightness in capturing Llewella.

Orinia looked at the floor. “In time, she will understand.” She nodded to herself, then met Braph’s gaze again. “And she will remain free of Turhmos’s cells. It will be for the best.”

“It will.”

“I’m ready, Dad. And I’m hungry.”

Orin’s demands jolted Braph into the now. He tapped several blood-suckers, animating them and sending them scuttling to his son.

“I’ll talk to Maura.” Orinia headed for the door. “I may even help her. It’s been years since I’ve made magic in a kitchen.” She glanced back at Braph, and his machine chugging away beside him. “And this kitchen really does make magic.” She flashed him a broad smile and slipped through the door.

Llew woke from a luxuriously restful sleep with Jonas still in bed beside her. He lay on his side with his back to her, the sheet and blankets right up around his neck to defend against the morning’s chill. Beneath, all going well, a thin layer of her magic still sat just under his skin, and Llew itched to see.

She reached for him within the cocoon of the blankets and found skin, warm. He flinched at her touch, then relaxed almost immediately and his head turned.

“Uh uh.” Llew pressed her hand into him, preventing him from rolling over. “I want to see if it’s still there.” She gripped the edge of the blankets and eased them down, exposing his shoulder.

“Brr.”

“Yes. But you want to know, too, don’t you?”

Jonas just smiled grudgingly at her over his shoulder as she continued to slide the blankets from him. She placed her hand on his shoulder, pushed. He relented, rolling away from her, exposing more of his back to her. Finally, the section of his tattoo between which Rowan had been working came into view, dull in the shadows of the bedroom but still clearly pink and sparkly. Pretty.

Llew shuffled across the bed, bringing herself against him and wrapped her arm around him, pulling him back into her fully.

“It’s still there,” she murmured.

Jonas hooked the blankets back over their shoulders then slipped his arm back inside and linked his fingers with hers, and they matched their contented sighs.

Eventually, the household stirred, and it was time to return to the Gravinator.

Llew sat, strung up as usual, and watched Jonas be injected with his morning dose. Then Rowan tattooed a small stockpile from the previous evening, extending the adornment Llew had admired in their bed.

Once Rowan had tattooed as much as he and Jonas could handle, he returned to Ard’s workshop and Jonas’s future prosthetic, and Jonas resumed practicing using the tattoo to power flight. After a good night sleep, he was quick to replicate the previous day’s results and extend them further; floating higher and adding more interesting sideways maneuvers. And when he landed, he could stand without the use of crutches, with his stumped thigh seeming to hang freely, because he could build a supportive cushion of air beneath. True magic Llew would never achieve, but she could facilitate, and that really did feel like enough, except … something was missing.

Several minutes after becoming aware of the lack, she identified it. The tree remained silent. Her baby didn’t scream in her head, and her body didn’t burn with multiple points of pain. It had been quiet the night before, too. What did that mean?

Not wanting to break Jonas’s concentration, Llew closed her eyes and turned inward, seeking sensations she might have missed. It seemed there was nothing. She queried the tree beneath her palm: was it still in contact with the Taither Ajnai? At first, there was nothing, and she wondered what she could expect to feel in response to such a question, other than the pain she had been enduring for days. What could a lack of pain mean? Was that simply a sign that the tree no longer endured Braph’s attacks? Or was it damaged, or … No. She couldn’t think it dead. No. So much of what she had and continued to endure was endurable because of the hope that tree offered. While she knew reality couldn’t be expected to shape itself around her desires, she simply couldn’t fathom the lack of that hope; her mind refused to entertain even a sniff of that thought. Perhaps Braph was simply too busy investigating the power he’d already extracted from the tree to be collecting more in that moment. Yes. That had to be it.

She opened her eyes to watch Jonas float about in front of her, already moving swifter through the air and changing direction as smoothly as if he’d been born to it. Magic they never would have imagined him performing. Magic he could use to keep himself healthy despite Braph’s bug coursing through him. Magic that would fail if Jonas wound up dead, as he might have to in order to defeat the bug once and for all. No. The Taither Ajnai had to still be standing.

“Give me something,” she murmured to the tree beneath her touch. But there was nothing.

Jonas would have to admit he was having fun, if anyone asked, or could ask. It still felt awkward to have a leg that stopped above the knee, but he could hover upright with his foot above the ground just as easily as he used to stand, with a support constructed out of air.

He smiled at Llew and she smiled back. Ah. So good to see.

But did that mean her tree wasn’t receiving painful messages from the Taither tree? He nearly faltered at the thought, had to refocus part of his attention. Of course, he didn’t want her to hurt, but what did it mean if she didn’t?

A haze settled over his mind. A part of him completely forgot what he was doing. He flailed to keep his balance and altitude. Some corner of his brain cursed as he recognized the intrusion: Braph.

How are you doing that?

His concentration failed and he fell to the ground with just enough control to tumble the landing and not injure himself too badly. He squeezed his eyes tight, obstructing Braph’s ability to learn through his eyes.

“Jonas?” Llew’s voice held a cautious worry.

He waved a hand at her, indicating she stay put.

Feet scuffed the earth around him, but no one touched and voices rose no more than a querying murmur.

A pressure built behind his eyelids. He squeezed tighter against Braph’s efforts.

Where is your device? How are you making the crystals?

Jonas couldn’t help his mind immediately filling the gaps in Braph’s knowledge with his memories of the reality – a vial with a soft pink glow, his back stinging, Rowan …. He swiftly directed his thoughts to inane things, like the cup of coffee he’d enjoyed with breakfast toast.

The pressure behind his eyelids grew, becoming painful. He gritted his teeth and managed a laugh that Braph’s actions were making it easy to keep Jonas’s thoughts off what Braph wanted to know.

How are you still alive?

The pressure behind Jonas’s eyelids eased.

I must know. Expect a visit, little brother.

Braph’s presence disappeared. Jonas blew out a breath, and opened his eyes to find himself surrounded. He checked Llew was still at a tree. Thankfully, she was. He pushed himself to sitting and raised an arm for Delwynn to aid him up. Garnoc brought his crutches to him. Jonas accepted one, leaned into it.

“It was Braph, wasn’t it?” Llew’s intense look combined rage and terror.

“He’s comin’.”

As expected, the terror won out at that declaration, but he wouldn’t let Braph’s arrival take Llew by surprise.

She cursed. “Get Rowan,” she said to Delwynn. “We’ve got no time.”