Chapter 5

If I hadn't had little Devath with me, I would have thrown myself down on the bed and thrashed about like a harling.

That's what I felt like doing -- hardly proper for a full-grown har of Brynie caste, especially not in front of an impressionable newborn. While it was true I had just finished hosting, that wasn't much of an excuse. Hara aren't supposed to be dominated by their emotions, but are supposed to be aware of them and express them as part of the whole of our being. Of course, at that moment, I wasn't quite so reflective, although I did manage to keep myself from bawling.

I set Devath down on the bed and wiping my tears, began to pace back and forth, trying to calm myself down. He looked at me oddly, his little harling brain not so much understanding what was wrong as feeling it. After a minute or so, I sat down next to him. "I know, Dev, I'm sorry..." I said. "Your hostling's a little upset. Don't worry, it'll all be better soon."

I smiled at him rather weakly and flopped back onto the soft coverlet. I was so sick of my parents, I could hardly stand it! I hadn't been so angry with them since my Feybraiah. They'd told me they'd never seen a harling get such a wild temper. Of course this time it was more than just powerful body chemistry taking me over, but a reaction to the utterly tactless manner my parents had been displaying since they arrived.

What was the deal with all those "little chats" they had called? And calling me submissive? And why and how had their memories been utterly wiped of all those things I'd told them about Tishrana and Fafara? Well, actually not so much told them as expected them to understand. They'd seen us all together, it should have been be obviously -- at least I thought so. Now we were going to have to go over it all over again and explain it, sometime or other. Presumedly tomorrow, assuming they even stayed in town.

Such were my thoughts when about five minutes later, I heard a knock on the door. Startled, I sat up and brushed back my hair. I was about to call out a grumpy "Who is it?" when a second knock came and let me know that wasn't necessary. This wasn't one of my partners or my parents knocking, but little Ilish.

I got up and opened the door. In the hall I looked down at my son and held out my hand. "Come on," I said. Glancing down the hall, I saw Adelna watching me, the good older brother as always, making sure his brother was all right. Inclining his head, he headed back towards the dining room.

Back inside the room, Ilish was climbing onto the bed. Devath was chattering harling nonsense to himself but Ilish was actually being quiet, somber even. I sat down beside him. "So, what brings you here?" I asked. With a hostling's instincts, I knew he was worried about something.

"Dede crying!" he burst out. "Crying and sad!"

He had that right. "That's true, Ili, but I'll be better soon. Don't worry."

Reaching over, I pulled him to me. Just as I was going to hold him in my arms, he suddenly said, "Grandparents sad too!"

"Your grandparents are sad?" I asked. I was doubtful I'd get any real information from a one-year-old harling, but I figured it wouldn't hurt to try.

"Sad!" he said emphatically. "They talk. I sad too."

"I told you not to worry. Nothing is going to change." I hugged him and hoped I was right.

It was probably twenty minutes later when, deciding I'd simply wait it out in the bedroom until I heard something, I suddenly knew someone was at the door. They didn't knock, but I knew it all the same. It was my parents and they were calling my name with their minds. Their mindvoice was surprisingly gentle.

Gathering up Devath, who had ironically become a bit of a security blanket for me that day, I let them know they could come in. When Ilish saw them come through the door, he popped off the bed and "hid" under the nightstand.

"Now, now, no need to hide from us, Ilish," Xela chided gently, "though I understand why you did, Dera." In one fluid motion, he slid down onto the bed beside me and kissed me on the forehead. "I'm sorry."

Pulling back, he looked up at my father, who seemed similarly contrite. "I'm sorry too. We... we got a little out of hand."

Swallowing, I pressed back a tear with the back of my hand. "I knew you'd be upset but I never thought you didn't--"

"Hush," Xela interrupted. "We all were thinking lots of things, but apparently we were wrong. We need to talk more."

"Definitely!" Shridan seconded, moving to sit on my other side. "Dera, it's not that we disagree with or disapprove of what you've done with your life, it's just that we're concerned, especially when we hear these things all of a sudden and have no idea of what's really going on. How were we to know you weren't letting them take advantage of your or hurt you?"

I wondered what had brought on this sudden change of heart. "And now you do know they're not?" I asked.

Xela nodded. "I think so. Your chesnari explained. In fact, Adelna explained it too. Even Ilish had a word to say!" He leaned forward and waved to the little one. "Didn't you? You said we made your Dede cry."

"We had a talk," my father continued. "And soon we saw how quick we had been to judge you. We meant well but... We didn't mean to be so dominating."

"Maybe you're not dominating, I'm just extra 'submissive,'" I joked, then held up my hand. "Just kidding. Thank you for your understanding."

We all hugged one another then. Ilish popped out from under the table when we felt he was being left out, while Devath relaxed for the first time in a couple of hours.

There was another knock on the door and soon Fafara, Tishrana and Adelna were with us too.

"It's peace then?" Fafa asked.

"I think so," I said. "I mean, we've all been in this small room together and there's no blood."

"Mightn't we go back out to the living room?" Tish suggested. "Have a civilized conversation perhaps?"

"It would be nice to finish off that cake..." I admitted, rising up from the bed. "Then maybe some wine too? A toast?"

"A toast," Shridan agreed. "To open ears and open hearts."

And with that, and Ilish's battle cry of "Cake!" we were once again one big happy family. And while I won't say I never had another spat with my parents, from that moment on, the generation gap began to shrink.