I don't usually tell readers how to interpret my stories, but there are always exceptions to every rule, aren't there?
This story has nothing to do with my personal beliefs on what is or isn't acceptable in relationships. This is not social commentary. This is not meant to criticize or demean or preach to any segment of the Earth's population. I wrote these aliens to be truly different, and my overall theme to begin with was the problems inherent in interspecies marriages -- this is a continuation of that same theme. None of these people are me, or anyone I know, though I draw on what I know and feel to create them.
Feedback on the story is more than welcome, but nastiness from people who get squicked easy will be deleted unanswered. If you cannot handle stories dealing with polygamy, polyandry, or homosexuality, stop reading now.
For Trilly, who asked.
Songs by Billy Joel, Enya and Matraca Berg, respectively.
%^%^%^%^%
Decisions of the Heart
%^%^%^%^%
Well we all have a face
That we hide away forever
And we take them out and
Show ourselves when everyone has gone
Some are satin some are steel
Some are silk and some are leather
They're the faces of the stranger
But we love to try them on
Well we all fall in love
But we disregard the danger
Though we share so many secrets
There are some we never tell
Why were you so surprised
That you never saw the stranger
Did you ever let your lover see
The stranger in yourself?. . .
You may never understand
How the stranger is inspired
But he isn't always evil
And he isn't always wrong
Though you drown in good intentions
You will never quench the fire
You'll give in to your desire
When the stranger comes along.
%^%^%^%^%
The lavender moon rose over the horizon slowly. Deanna spread her arms as if to embrace it, as if to gather in the night and make it her own. From the house, her selections from Gwaheer's vast collection of music played. She didn't care how it carried around the valley beyond, or how many people it disturbed. It was newly-dark, and most people would still be awake.
She had the house to herself, completely. With her schedule returning to normal, her case load had increased to stressful levels again, and as much as she loved her son, his antics this past week had been too much for her to bear. Zakhad had taken him to see his grandmother, and Gwaheer was at *Jhegwa* helping Jean-Luc with the budget and staff interviews. Screening telepaths for counseling duties wasn't something Jean-Luc could do himself, and the critical nature of Project Moriarty as a whole depended in part upon the drone rehabilitation program, so Gwaheer had agreed to spend four days of his undivided attention on the space station. Zakhad, ever vigilant in the preservation of their husband's health, had insisted that he take advantage of the task to avoid teleporting and allow his body to recover from his usually-incessant journeying to and fro.
Deanna's choice of music that evening was a series of albums by an Irish singer named Enya. The haunting strains were perfect for moonlight and warm breezes of the waning summer. The wind played along her bare skin, reminding her of the last time she and Gwaheer had made love -- his latest game was to tease her with the tip of his tail.
His games were many and varied. They could take months to play out. In the beginning, he'd been straightforward about sex, mostly because of her initial panic attack. As she proved to him she'd gotten over that, he'd started to try new things -- new to her, anyway. The first game she'd noticed was his way of subtle flirting that drove Zakhad crazy; after three days of infrequent murmurs in her ear, Gwaheer found himself being pursued. Deanna was initially confused by the logistics of it. Of course, she couldn't understand Ryxi, and didn't know what he said to 'khad that made her wild enough to chase him around the house, then into the sky.
Then he'd started with Deanna in Betazoid, muttering innuendos in passing even when they were surrounded by other people, and putting the thought in her head when even muttering would be overheard. Foreplay, Ryxi style. Completely public, and completely private. And then he'd spent the night with Zakhad, or the better part of it, and Deanna woke the next morning to find him curled around her, in a quite affectionate manner. But the minute she tried to touch him sexually he'd leapt up and headed off for breakfast.
It made her angry at first. Curiosity had gotten the better of her, however, and she extended the benefit of the doubt. And the second day he continued to whisper sweet somethings, snippets of poetry and innuendo, and added a swipe of his tail tip across the back of her leg. Since she usually wore dresses, that was easy enough for him to do without being noticed by observers.
The third day, the tail tip ventured higher up her skirt. She even tried to catch him a couple times, and embarrassed herself in front of Ka'zor and his family with a butt-grabbing swipe at the tail she thought she'd felt, only to find it had been a branch of a nearby shrub. Gwaheer had stood laughing silently at her from across the room; she'd sensed it even before she saw his amused smile.
Halfway through the fourth day, she realized it would continue until she did something. So she did. Zakhad had grinned and coiled her tail with delight at Deanna's request. When Gwaheer came home late from a semi-social function with a sub-council member, he leaped into Zakhad's bed in the dark and found himself grabbed by the neck by Deanna. She realized later that he'd known the instant he'd entered the room, thanks to his sense of smell, but his pleasure at her discovery of the rules of the game had been well-demonstrated at regular intervals during the night. The following morning, he began the game again with Zakhad and spent his nights in Deanna's room.
He had other, less involved games he liked to play. Part of the fun was that he never explained the rules. When she started to play her own games, he enjoyed those, too. It was a way of keeping things interesting, she realized -- after a century or so of marriage, how else could he have kept himself and Zakhad from becoming bored?
Deanna smiled and inhaled deeply, closing her eyes as the wind caressed her cheek and swept through her hair. She liked the way the long tresses felt heavy like a blanket against her bare back, liked the way the ends of the curls brushed the small of her back just above her cheeks. Liked the way it felt when Gwaheer lost himself in it, tangling his hands in it, burying his face in it, nosing his way through to send his tongue dancing up her spine. . . .
The music changed from a surreal, soaring instrumental to a slow, plaintive song. Deanna knew the words; this was the fifth time around for the entire playlist. She sang along with Enya and allowed her body to move freely, feeling the music.
//I dreamt I dwelt in marble halls,
with vassels and serfs at my side,
and of all who assembled within those walls
that I was the hope and the pride.
I had riches all too great to count
and a high ancestral name.
But I also dreamt which pleased me most
that you loved me still the same,
that you loved me,
you loved me still the same.//
During the instrumental bridge, she tried to spin on the balls of her feet in an approximation of a ballerina. She laughed when she nearly ran into the chairs and table standing in the shadow of the *shefain* tree. Holding up her arms around an imaginary partner, she waltzed down the length of the patio overlooking the canyon. Enya continued her sing-song, lilting verse.
//I dreamt that suitors sought my hand,
that knights upon bended knee
and with vows no maiden's heart could withstand,
they pledged their faith to me.
And I dreamt that one of that noble host
came forth my hand to claim.
But I also dreamt which charmed me most
that you loved me still the same
that you loved me
you loved me still the same. . . .//
The moonlight made her pale skin seem lavender. She looked down at her body, praising herself for avoiding any lingering pounds from her pregnancy. All the exercise from chasing Zerin, and her continued disciplined exercises every morning -- and plenty of attention from her husband contributed, too, no doubt. The chase wasn't entirely one-way. Romps around the house were common, and not always sexual -- Zerin was a frequent participant, and the pursuit usually ended with the whole family either in a tangle on a bed or in the hot spring.
A pang of loneliness, and suddenly it wasn't so balmy outside. She glanced at the moon again and went inside to change the music.
When she returned to the garden, she settled in the hot spring, among the tendrils of steam rising into the darkness. There'd been no opportunity to soak for the last seven days. She turned on the lights around that area of the garden. Closing her eyes, she propped her head against the edge of the spring and let the first song wash over her.
//I watch the sun going down
while I stand on sacred ground
where once the night would find us
in the twilight of our love
you said you'd meet me here
now I'm all alone
you sounded so sincere
did you lead me on
I told the starry sky to wait for you
I told the wind to sigh like lovers do
I even told the night that you were true
and you would be here soon
now I'm lying to the moon
so the night takes me in
like a sympathetic friend
it sends the wind through the trees
so the willow weeps for me
the shadows fool my eyes
and I think I see you
then they start to cry
don't you know they believed you
I told the starry sky to wait for you
I told the wind to sigh like lovers do. . . //
She burst out of the water. Wrong. All wrong. That would be the last selection she'd make solely by the title.
As she hesitated, waiting for most of the water to drip off, she heard a single footfall on the roof, and turned, expecting to see her husband. He'd
defied Zakhad's edicts before to come home when the urge to see his wives overtook him. But it wasn't Gwaheer.
"Sakhara?"
He hopped down and landed four-legged on the lawn. Pulling himself upright
as she approached, he smiled at her as he always did, ears at attention. He waited until she was close and spoke loud to be heard over the
music.
"I don't mean to intrude. I was flying over on my way home, and saw you out
here. . . ."
"It's no intrusion. Are you looking for Gwaheer? He's not home -- "
Deanna stopped when he moved closer suddenly. Unlike other Ryxi, Sakhara knew how much personal space she was comfortable with. That he invaded it now, after so many months of maintaining it, set her on edge. Something was different. And she realized that this was not the first time she'd sensed it, but she'd ignored it until now.
He stood looking at her in the moonlight, his eyes dark patches in his face, and finally broke the spell by twitching an ear.
"There's something wrong?" she asked.
"Nothing's wrong," he said. "Nothing." Another long pause. "Deanna, do you -- "
He couldn't finish, and chills raced each other up her spine. She took a step backward and turned away, realizing too late that though such body language was appropriate among humans, Betazoids, and other humanoid life forms, she'd just issued a come-on to a Ryxian. She hadn't paid attention to her body language with Sakhara previously. He knew enough about her that she felt she could relax around him. But with his present odd behavior, the circumstances were different. The shock of this train of thought, that she'd even think such things of her friend, her brother-in-law, stopped her in her tracks. And then she realized that this, too, was not a good action to take -- she nearly ran for the house.
But she stood trembling, and became too aware of her nudity. Especially when his hand fell on her shoulder.
Shaking him off, she did run for the house, to her room. She put on a robe and tied her hair back. He had to leave now -- she'd retreated from his presence. He'd realize that he'd made an error in judgement and they could go back to the casual friendship they'd had previously. In time, she could forget about this.
The song stopped, and luckily it'd been the only one she'd programmed; she wasn't in the mood for music any more. Reaching for her hair brush, she jumped when she heard the scrape of a talon on the floor.
He was standing in the door of her room, backlit by the dim hall lamps.
"I think you'd better leave," she said.
Sakhara took a step forward instead.
It sunk into her bones like knives of ice - she'd done everything wrong, the complete opposite of how she should have reacted. She'd turned her back, then ran away -- chasing was foreplay to the Ryxi. She'd done it all wrong, and though he knew better, he was reading her as if she were Ryxi herself.
"I'm not teasing. Please leave."
"It isn't impossible, Deanna. There is a way we could be together."
"What are you saying? I have a bond mate -- your brother!"
"There is a way. Hasn't Gwaheer told you anything about our marriage practices beyond simple polygamy?"
Deanna hovered on the tightrope over an abyss of hysterical fear. "Are you talking about polyandry? What about your wives?"
"We could be one family. Like Ka'zor and his zin, and their wives."
Plural pronouns in reference to spouses. She still wasn't quite used to it, even though she'd been with Gwaheer for a year. Their wives. She could be Gwaheer's wife, and Sakhara's -- would that mean bonding with both of them? She knew bonds didn't always happen even between married telepaths, but she'd always felt close to Sakhara --
Felt close. Past tense. How could she feel close to him now? This was wrong.
It felt wrong, anyway, and her feelings mattered. Gwaheer would never, regardless of what he wanted, bring another person into the family without the full consent and support of his wives. They'd made that promise to each other.
"Go away," she whispered.
"It would work. Gwaheer and I are close - we always have been. And you and I are close, aren't we? Not so close as you and Gwaheer, but then that isn't necessary -- "
"NO!"
He recoiled and put a hand on the door frame. What did it take to convince him once and for all?
"It isn't fair for you to tell me this like this," she exclaimed, thinking of how close the brothers were and the possible ramifications of this. "I thought you were supposed to approach Zakhad first."
"I just saw her, at Tejerra's. She said she would have to check with you and Gwaheer. I know Gwaheer would do anything you wanted -- "
"Why do you think I would want this?" She backpedaled quickly, recognizing how harsh she sounded. "You're a good friend -- like a brother to me. I like you, 'khara, and I've enjoyed working with you, but I never thought you would propose marriage to me."
"You don't find me attractive?"
This was too much for her to handle tactfully. The shock was still too great. And he asked too much of a leading question. If she said no, she might hurt him, and she didn't know enough about what he was proposing to understand what Gwaheer's response might be to this. The wrong answers might sever a lifelong friendship unnecessarily.
"I need time to think." That was true enough.
He hesitated, then left. She waited, holding her breath, until the distant sound of the initial downbeat of his wings, and exhaled, falling back into her bed and sobbing out the tension she'd kept in check.
Quick footfalls startled her, and she waited fearfully, holding her breath again. Then a worried trilling, and Zerin charged into the room, leaping at her. Zakhad came close behind.
"You're afraid," she exclaimed, probably able to smell it. "He came here, didn't he?"
Zakhad sat on the edge of the bed and held out her arms. Deanna hugged her, relieved, glad to see a friend, then felt odd embracing a Ryxian other than her husband. The Ryxi weren't huggers by nature. They just weren't built for it -- wings would clash, claws could tear membranes, keels would collide painfully -- hence the usual forehead-bumping gesture and tail-twining. Gwaheer indulged her because he understood her need for more physical contact; Zakhad must be following his lead, after observing how he calmed her whenever she was upset. She'd never hugged her before, but Gwaheer wasn't here to do it.
Zerin yanked at her robe, trying to get her attention, then perked up. "Daddy!" And Gwaheer was at the door.
Zakhad let go of Deanna's neck and went to him, a worried buzz in her throat. He touched foreheads with her briefly and came to Deanna's side. "What are you so afraid of, that I could hear you from so far away?" He spared a gentle hand for Zerin, who climbed on his arm, and after holding their son briefly passed him to Zakhad. She took him from the room, soothing his whimpering at being parted from his other parents so quickly.
Gwaheer put his arms around her, pulled her into the confines of his unfurled wings, which he held around them like a wall. "*Kahzan'kahliu,* you look all right, Zerin is all right, but you are terrified."
"Sakhara," she whispered.
"What about him?" He knew nothing serious was wrong -- he and his brother shared a resonance, not quite a bond, but they'd grown up together. He would know if anything happened to his brother.
She tried to say it. Nothing would come out. "I need to know more about what a zin is," she managed at last.
She felt him tense, going from concerned to tightly-contained, intense, conflicting emotions -- more anger than anything else. "He suggested that to you?"
"I didn't know what to say to him. I don't know enough -- "
"We decided as a family that we would not add any others. What else is there to know?"
"He's your brother, your best friend. I didn't want to speak on your behalf. I didn't know if you would make an exception and consider him -- I didn't even know it would be possible! 'Hiri, he followed me inside -- I was so frightened, I didn't even think about what I was doing, I just wanted to get away from him, and all I did was encourage -- "
<Stop this, love. You have done nothing wrong. He isn't thinking, obviously. Be still.> Gwaheer rolled into the bed on his back, pulling her with him, cradling her along his body until she stopped crying. He was trying to calm himself, as well. The news had hit him hard.
She pressed her face along the muscles of his chest. His skin smelled good to her -- faint citric odor, with an overlying musk that reminded her of smoke. This was home, more than anything else. His fingers tangled in her hair, his tail wrapping around her leg, a silent vibration in his chest - he could purr without making a sound, and when she pressed her ear to his keel she could hear the throbbing. They lay in the darkness until she breathed evenly and calmly, then he started to speak.
"I don't know if I can fully explain zin to you."
"I need you to try. Is it like a second husband, or is a zin like a -- a male wife?"
"You are more confused than I thought. Forgive my previous attempt at an explanation -- I didn't do well, it seems." He paused, thinking. "What are you most concerned about?"
"That he thought you would do it if he could convince me I wanted to do it."
Anger burned. True to form, when he spoke, his voice betrayed nothing of what he felt. "That is true. But could he convince you?"
Her heart fluttered like a captive insect. In the silence, an angry growl from Zerin echoed through the house. He must be giving Zakhad a difficult time.
"You would consent, if I wanted him?"
He sighed and stroked her hair affectionately. "Sakhara is in love with you."
"But -- "
"Let me finish. I knew it might happen -- he and I have similar tastes, and he's been attracted to you from the beginning. Most men you meet are. But he must have decided he was in love with you some time in the last week; I haven't seen him since he came over to borrow my *der'ingia.* And he must have his wives' approval if he has begun to ask. To give you an indication of how strongly he feels. . . ."
He shifted, bringing her upright and settling next to her, stretching his wings briefly. Taking her hand, he looked at it instead of her face. "To be zin is to abandon clan. I've told you about clan responsibilities. Once he's abandoned his clan, he can't go back to it. He becomes a member of the zel's clan. If the zin leaves the zel, he becomes. . . no one. This would be so, even if he were originally of the same clan as the zel."
Deanna tried to remember all the pertinent details -- zel was rendered by translators as 'husband' but wasn't exactly that. "If zin leaves zel, he also loses his children, as would happen in a divorce?"
"A zin doesn't have children. Not technically, not in the eyes of the clan. He is birth father but the children belong to the zel. When a zin leaves, the children stay with the zel and his wives."
"What about pre-existing children?"
"Underage children, if the zin has any, go to his former clan. In Sakhara's case his son would remain within our own. We could likely bring him into our family."
"Does the -- do zel and zin -- can they -- "
Gwaheer put a finger over her lips. "There are no taboos against same sex relationships," he said quietly. "It is always a matter of choice. I choose to have two wives, no more, and no zin. Judging from the cacophony of odors in varying quantities in Ka'zor's family, I doubt he has any such interest in his zin. I do think that two of the four wives have. But such relationships are an entirely different matter; they are never considered marriages."
Deanna closed her hands over her knee, trying to keep them from shaking -- as if he didn't already know how her mind reeled through her memories, digging up every encounter she'd had with Ka'zor's family, with Sakhara's -- and Zakhad.
He wasn't reading her thoughts, she knew he never did that without permission, but he must have known what she would be thinking. "Zakhad is not, I think, very interested in such relationships. She never showed anything more than friendship with Rehia, and hasn't appeared to be attracted to you. Does this disturb you?"
"Yes and no," Deanna said, swallowing. "It. . . rearranges some of my preconceptions of Ryxi in general."
He no longer raged inwardly, she sensed -- discussing things in generalities was providing him with time to work through his emotions. At least one of them was calm. He gave her time to think things through, still holding her hand gently.
"If they're never considered marriages, then what are they?"
A flicker of patient amusement sparked and died, to be replaced by -- it was confusing, but it seemed to be regret, briefly, then weariness. "Relationships."
"But -- so you can have casual sexual relationships, but only with the same sex, but any sexual relationship with the opposite sex becomes a marriage?"
"There is no such thing as a casual relationship. Same-gender sexual relationships are friendships, and not exclusive of marriage. No *zizen* would deprive his lover of children."
Deanna made several false starts trying to ask the next question. She debated not asking, but knew it would prey on her mind. "Have you ever had a. . . *zizen?*"
He'd expected it, and withdrawn slowly, shielding himself more than usual from her. "Would that upset you?"
"I can't see it," she whispered. "I don't see you as. . . being that sort of person."
Gwaheer pulled her close and kissed the top of her head. "Do you think I have always been as I am now? Or have you imagined that, over the course of a century, I might have matured, changed my opinions, made new choices? You and Zakhad are what I want. I am the same person you met a year ago, only happier. A decade ago, that would have been the same, had we been reunited then. Two decades ago, you probably would have seen me differently. Ten decades ago -- had you been alive, you wouldn't have liked me. I was a very different person. So was Zakhad."
Deanna's perception of her world rocked and tumbled, then with a sigh, she clung to the present, the husband she had and the love he was broadcasting to her, and accepted it. "Why isn't a relationship with a *zizen* marriage?"
"Deanna, you're trying to superimpose terms that don't match. I use the term 'marriage' because it is what you know, and it keeps your mother from arranging a grand festival of nudity for us on Betazed. For the Ryxi, there are zel, zin, zizen, kazen and kahli. Men become zel when they take kahli, with the intent of making the relationship permanent. Zin are also intended to be permanent, and may join a family either because of a passion for one of the zel's wives, or because the family itself appeals so much to him that he wishes to be a part of it. Zizen are usually taken by bachelors, like Tormal, in absence of zin or kahli; they may become zin or go their own way when kahli are taken. The same is true for kazen; once a zel is found by one of them, the other either chooses to also become his kahli, or goes her way. And kahli or zel might also have a kazen or zizen on the side, but it's not common. And all these relationships are chosen with great care -- the more people are involved, the more carefully everything is considered."
There were far too many z's in his explanation, but she thought she understood. It made her wonder about all the Ryxi she'd seen in groups; without benefit of their sense of smell, she couldn't always tell male from female. They tended to look the same when clothed, and voice pitch meant nothing.
"Does this worry you?"
"Is that why you haven't told me this until now? You thought it would worry me?"
"It wasn't an issue. . . well. Yes. I did think it would worry you. I am never certain how non-Ryxi will understand it, or not, and when I was explaining zin to you last time -- "
"We were distracted, and it no longer seemed an issue anyway because we'd made our decisions. 'Hiri, I've known that you have a long history I really don't know much about. I knew Ryxi have a different social system and that it would take a long time to understand it fully. In a way, that you waited to explain it to me now helps me understand -- I've lived among you for a year. After seeing how Ryxi regard one another in daily contact, what you're saying makes a little more sense than if you'd told me in the beginning."
She hugged him again, testing the bond, and slowly he let her back in. "Why do you feel so sad?" she asked.
"Sakhara is my brother." To her surprise, a drop of water struck her shoulder -- he was crying. "There are two types of love, kah'zanna and kahzan. What I feel for him is kah'zanna, the love of family and close friends. I fear that I will no longer feel that love for him, or any love at all, if -- It would never be zizen with him. I have no desire for either of his wives. Tierza is too brash, and Roilan is too passive. With Sakhara, they do well, but with us. . . . He doesn't know you well enough to see past the compassionate empath you present to the world, and he doesn't know the side of Zakhad he saw only briefly the day Zerin was born, when she threw everyone out of the house. He doesn't see that this will change the relationship between him and myself, irrevocably. He hasn't known other zin well, only Ka'zor's -- he sees only the positive aspects of it."
Deanna could feel the sadness growing. "You don't think you'll be able to explain all this to him?"
"This is an emotional decision he's making. If I refuse him, as I intend to do, he may turn away from me completely. If I took him as zin, we might lose Zakhad. She dislikes Tierza. She would be furious that I broke our agreement that it would always be the three of us. And I might lose you as well -- you accepted polygamy with reservations, and you've expressed discomfort at the thought of my taking another kahli. Two more, plus Sakhara, whose only real motivation appears to be his desire for you -- you understand what he's risking, now?"
"But I don't want him! You've told me before that if there were no more options, you would make some for me. Make me one that means you are still friends with 'khara and he's not my husband."
"Zin," he corrected wearily. "I'll think about it. I'm officially still gone until tomorrow. And I should go back -- I left a discussion in progress, and I have some catching up to do. But I want to be sure -- you understand now what zin entails?"
"No." At his rising anxiety, she clutched his neck tighter. "Not entirely, I mean. It almost sounds like a zin's secondary to the zel."
"Given what I've told you, what's the difference between a zin and a zel?"
"The zel came first? First come, first served?"
"Do you know, *kahzan'kahliu,* how many zel choose to become zin after they've been zel for a century or so?"
He had a casual way of saying such things, even things with such sweeping implications that kicked her in the gut. "No."
"Very few. I can remember two, myself. Do you want to know how long those two I knew lasted in the relationship?"
"Not long?"
"Two years, and half a year, respectively. One of them optimistically joined a zel who had five wives, and another zin. He took his own wife into the family with him, and lost her when a nasty battle between him and the other two men broke out. The other and his two wives joined a zel and three wives, and the entire family broke apart." Gwaheer sighed deeply. "That was Deyloda."
"What! Deyloda? But he's always singing songs about the wonders of wives -- "
"While he drinks himself into a stupor, after which his *zizen* drags him home. Yes, Klinno is a man. I'm sorry -- "
"No, I'm just -- it's just another assumption bursting. Deyloda. I never would have imagined it. I always thought it was because of overwork."
"He works to forget. He drinks to forget working. He has no clan, no home, and no children." He swayed, rocking her from side to side gently. "And I do not wish to see myself become another like him. Sakhara is not thinking. Roilan is his bondmate and would do anything to see him happy. Tierza wants another child and likely sees you as a willing participant, since you so happily bore Zerin -- "
"But Zerin is *our* son! Your son! Whose son would she expect me to carry? 'Hiri, I don't want Sakhara."
"You don't?"
She pulled away and gaped at him. Finally, after several attempts, she said, "I can't tell you I don't think he's attractive. He reminds me of you in so many ways. But he's just a friend, the brother I never had, even, and I'm unable to focus on more than one man at a time. I'd have to give up who I am to accept him. I'd always feel like I was cheating on you."
"Betazoids are not always monogamous."
"You know better than this, 'hiri. I've always wanted a relationship like the one Mother had with my father. I think I've found that."
"I thought Will was your imzadi." A strange, wistful pathos tinged his tone. She didn't take the time to wonder why.
"The longer I'm with you, the more I question that."
He was too still. Too quiet. Then he kissed her, with an unusually desperate urgency.
While they were lost in emotional and physical ecstasy, caressing and tasting and rearranging themselves into more conducive positions, the bed moved, and she heard a growl. Deanna thought at first that Zerin had gotten away from Zakhad, but it wasn't their son; Gwaheer raised his head, and Zakhad lunged, biting the back of his neck.
This was completely uncharacteristic of her -- she never interrupted them, had joined them a few times, but she'd never growled before or pulled at him in such a demanding way -- and confusion interrupted Deanna's mood. Gwaheer was as confused, but his emotions shifted to surprise, then a shocking bestial surge of lust. He leaped at Zakhad, but as suddenly as she'd come, she was gone, and he pursued her. In their wake, Deanna could smell arousal, strong and muskier than usual.
After a few moments of utter disbelief, Deanna opened her window, then went to find Zerin. He greeted her, sounding happy, but his little clawless hands clutched at her desperately. Deanna 'heard' Gwaheer distantly and sensed Zakhad as well, and shut them both out. No vicarious participation in this!
She played with Zerin, keeping her focus on making him laugh, wrestling with him and tickling him til he laughed so hard he whistled. She didn't bother turning on the light; the moonlight through the ceiling panels of the front room was enough to make out the toys, the furniture, and Zerin. Nearly an hour later, she heard them come back, through the back of the house.
Gwaheer came to stand over her. Zerin pounced on his feet; he picked up his son and held him to his chest. "I'm sorry, Deanna. Forgive me. It's the first time she's done that in -- a very long time."
"What did she do?" He reeked of sex, but at the moment, she didn't find that at all appealing. His hair was windblown, and he had scratches down his arms and legs, and a bruise below his right eye.
"Ovulate. Ryxi aren't fertile all their lives, and at her age, it's an irregular, sporadic thing. She'll likely be sterile in a decade or so." He glanced down, following her gaze to the scratches, and sighed. "It -- I couldn't help it, and neither could she. She smelled -- "
"I know. Even I could tell her scent changed. If she's so close to -- perhaps we shouldn't wait to have another baby."
He sat on the floor next to her and put Zerin among his toys, tugging his tail affectionately. "You aren't angry with me?"
"I was, at first." She tugged his ear. "I've learned to wait a while before reacting, when something unusual happens. If I'd done that in the beginning, we wouldn't have ended up in court last year. . . ."
Deanna ran her fingertips down his face -- a Betazoid gesture that meant intimacy, pulling away the masks one wore in public to reveal the true self. It made him happy; she opened herself to him again and savored his joy and love once more.
He led her to the hot spring, letting Zerin romp around the garden. Zakhad was already there; her anxiety flickered at Deanna like a moth to light. "It's all right, 'khad."
"I tried not to -- "
"Zakhad, it's all right. I forgive you."
She subsided, and they sat in silence, the moon riding along its path high overhead. His intention was obviously to relax them all, to let them recover from the stress of the situation. Deanna thought Gwaheer might start to sing; his emotions were building to unusual heights. But he sat in the steaming water, ducking his head under periodically, and called Zerin back from the cliff's edge when he ventured too close to the canyon.
<What's wrong, love?> she asked at last.
He looked at her, ears slanting upward at acute angles. "I cannot go back to *Jhegwa* with this unresolved. It would distract me. Would either of you object to my bringing Sakhara over to talk?" He glanced at Zakhad.
"I'll make us something to drink." Zakhad rose and dripped into the house.
"She's embarrassed," Deanna said. "Because she lost control of herself?"
"It's likely because she does not want her body to react so drastically to the thought of being with Sakhara."
Deanna pressed herself against the rock side of the pool. "You said she wouldn't want -- "
"She doesn't like Tierza. She thinks Tierza is a poor mother, and doesn't want her to have anything to do with Zerin. But she likes Sakhara. The act of taking another mate stimulates certain hormones, and you can guess she's imagined what it would be like if I accepted Sakhara."
Such matter-of-fact observations sent Deanna's world tipping madly again. "It doesn't bother you that she would feel that way?"
"Feelings can be arbitrary things, *kahzan'kahliu.* I love you, I desire you, I am possessive of you -- but if you decided to leave me and make Sakhara your zel, I would allow you to do that without hesitation. My feelings would demand actions that I would not take. Our rational decision-making ability separates us from the beasts. Without that ability, we would be in chaos constantly. Zakhad decides to be with me, and has done so for so long, though she has felt the attraction to Sakhara for years, that I know she will continue to choose me -- until there is a change. If I change in some way she cannot accept, if she decides to change in a way I cannot reconcile -- that isn't likely, but it could happen. Of course, even if she did leave me, she would not go to Sakhara because of Tierza. There are other men who would be happy to have her, even if she cannot have children."
He turned his head and seemed to be looking at the moon -- probably sending the telepathic summons to Sakhara. Deanna exhaled noisily; this was a night for paradigm shifting! Seeking a distraction, she remembered a long-standing but trivial question, thanks to his use of his usual term of endearment. "Why did you call me *kahzan'kahliu* when I was a child?"
It distracted him, all right. In the moonlight, she could see his grin. "I didn't."
"Well, correct me if I'm wrong, but -- *kahzan* is passionate love, between mates. *Kahli* is a wife -- a lovely one."
"When you were a child, I called you *kah'zanna'kahliu.* Literally, our beloved lovely girl. *Kahliu* is possessive and plural. Singular possessive would be *kahli'i.* The more benign meaning of *kah'zanna* alters the meaning of *kahli* from 'mate' to 'woman' or 'girl.' We need to keep up with your language lessons, Deanna."
"But when we met again on the *Enterprise* you called me *kahzan'kahliu.* I remember that well."
He laughed. "I slipped, and couldn't correct myself, or you would have questioned and known what I wanted to conceal -- I did not want to confront you with how I felt for you at that point. It wasn't likely, to my thinking at the time, that I would ever have the chance to mate with you. Much to my delighted surprise, I was wrong."
"I'm glad you're wrong once in a while. So what does *khadlon* mean?"
She'd asked him before, and he'd smiled cryptically. This time was no different. He shook his head and put his hand to the side of the spring, wiggling his fingers. Zerin darted out of the shrubbery and pounced, chewing his father's hand.
"Come on -- why won't you tell me?"
"It embarrasses her."
"I won't tell."
Deanna felt his tail find her foot in the water, twine itself around her ankle, and creep up her leg. The tip found her clitoris and flicked it, then retreated. "You're kidding!"
"It's a pun," Gwaheer said, keeping his voice low. "We were drinking with some of the Zeg on *Jhegwa.* One of them was singing bawdy songs, and *khadlon* was one of the words. Since I called her 'khad anyway, it wasn't difficult for her to figure out why I kept calling her *khadlon.* She enjoyed the joke, but threatened to tear my ears off if I made it common knowledge. I can only use it because not many Ryxi bother to learn that much Zeg. I don't think either of us thinks of the real meaning of it any more, except in certain circumstances."
He looked up again. "And here is Sakhara. I think we got them out of bed."
Two Ryxi fluttered down. Zerin whimpered when Gwaheer picked him up. "Please put him to bed. It's past his bedtime, anyway."
Deanna took Zerin inside, too aware of Sakhara's eyes following her until she was out of sight. She took her time bathing him and settled him in his room, leaving him purring in his bed with his favorite stuffed animal, a teddy bear from Jean-Luc and Beverly. Deanna smiled as she glanced back one last time at the child sleeping curled up on the belly of the huge, mottled bear; she and Zakhad called the bear Jean-Luc, because Zerin had managed to pull out most of its synthetic fur -- though they refrained from telling the bear's namesake. That would be a joke best saved for the right moment.
She closed the door and leaned against it briefly, rubbing her abdomen. Another child. She wanted that. Zerin was growing, talking, and wouldn't be a baby long. He'd be a child for longer than a human would be, but he would be speaking complete sentences soon.
Shaking off warm motherly affections, Deanna pulled on one of her house dresses, put on her wrist comm that would double as a translator, and steeled herself to face the group outside. Zakhad had returned to the garden, and they'd all moved up to the table overlooking the canyon. The silence that ensued the minute she came around the trees into view was uncomfortable; she sensed the tensions in the air, the hostility -- that was Roilan, she realized, though it wasn't clear at whom she directed it.
Shivering, though not from a chill, Deanna sat at Gwaheer's side and looked at her husband. He put a hand to her shoulder, as if to steady her, or himself, or both. "Roilan wishes to ask you a question."
Deanna sat up straighter; glad of his hand, she covered it with her own. Roilan stared across the table at her. "Why did you lead us on, if you did not wish -- "
"I don't know what you mean."
"She's not -- "
"Gwahiri, let her talk," Sakhara said. The cold steel in his tone hurt to hear.
"What do you mean, I led you on? We are friends, I thought. I treated you as I treat all my friends." Deanna picked up her glass and took a few mouthfuls, barely tasting the sweet stuff; this was a new beverage, something Zakhad must have replicated. There wasn't anything like it in the refrigerator.
Roilan's tail struck the leg of her chair. "You visit us in our home, you flirt with Sakhara, you even flirt with me. We have all been open with you, and you are affectionate to our children. Now Gwaheer says you have no interest in us as family."
Deanna struggled for a bit with the nuances. To her, they were family -- in-laws. To them, they were clan, wanting to become family. "This is a misunderstanding. I've only been here for a year, and I'm still learning -- I never meant to give you the impression that I felt anything other than *kah'zanna* for you. I relaxed too much and behaved as I would at home on Betazed, obviously -- my people have very different customs and behavior patterns. I think I must have assumed I could relax and be myself around you because you -- because Sakhara works around so many offworlders -- "
<You are saying too much.> Gwaheer extended his tail gracefully across her lap, under the table. She gripped it with both hands, and the end wrapped around her right wrist.
Zakhad put what little was left of her drink on the table. The susurration of her tail across the stone patio was loud in the silence of the night. "Roilan, it is not an idea without its appeal. But when Deanna joined us, we agreed that we would limit our family to the three of us. It's taken months for her to reconcile herself completely to sharing Gwaheer with me. I don't believe she would be able to cope with a zin, or more kahli."
Deanna stared at her sister-wife, dumbfounded. All the times she'd tried to hide momentary discomfort that came and went at random, and Zakhad had known anyway!
"I understood there were group marriages on Betazed as well," Sakhara said.
"There are, but we are considering Deanna. Not a generality, not a statistic, not a random segment of Betazoid culture. She has her own opinion of what she should have. She has it. If she changes her mind, she'll tell us, I'm positive." Gwaheer drained his glass and placed it upside down on the table. That was it, for him. He had nothing more to say.
"I am sorry," Zakhad said, looking at their guests. "It would be interesting. It would be easier, in some respects -- but it would be more difficult in too many others. I must consider Deanna's feelings. She is *kib'hoya* to me, and I cannot condone what would cause her discomfort and distress." She picked up her glass, drained it, and set it upside down on the table.
Sakhara and Roilan looked at Deanna. Though they knew what her answer would be, Sakhara's eyes pleaded, and Deanna tipped up her drink, then looked at the thick bottom of the empty glass so she wouldn't have to see his face.
"I care a great deal about you," she said. "You are good friends. You are Gwaheer's best friend, 'khara, and it would hurt me to think that I became the reason that changed. Please understand that I'm not being cruel -- I can't do as you ask. I might have accepted Zakhad as a sister, and gotten used to sharing Gwaheer, but I can't change what I am -- I'm still monogamous, underneath it all. It would be too difficult. I can't be responsible for ruining both our families. I'm sorry."
She placed the glass upside down in front of her. Sakhara stared at her, the devastation she'd wrought plain on his face. After an eternity of a moment, he poured his drink on the ground, plunked the glass upright, and stood. Roilan looked up at her husband -- her zel, no sense in continuing the misguided assumptions -- and drank the remaining third of hers, putting the glass upside down with such force that it broke.
They stared at each other, zel and kahli, and Sakhara's tail moved violently to and fro, sweeping dry leaves aside. He glared at Gwaheer briefly then turned and spread his wings.
"'khara," Gwaheer cried.
Sakhara paused, on the tips of his toes, and rocked back, pulling his wings in slightly. He looked down at the ground, then finally at Gwaheer and Deanna. A bitter, slight smile touched his lips.
"In time," he said simply, then plunged off the cliff into the canyon. Roilan followed without looking back.
Deanna exhaled, unaware that she'd been holding her breath. "God. I'm so sorry, 'hiri. I feel terrible about this."
"It's my own fault, for not explaining things in more detail. And like you, I trusted that Sakhara would understand you were only being yourself."
He stood, and Zakhad collected the glasses, including the broken pieces of Roilan's. They went inside and shared a cup of hot chocolate in the kitchen in companionable silence. When the mugs were empty and set aside, Deanna and Zakhad moved as if by pre-arrangement to put their foreheads against Gwaheer's chin. Deanna opened her eyes. Zakhad was looking at her, too, under the line of Gwaheer's jaw. She knew what Deanna knew -- deep, deep sorrow was keeping Gwaheer silent.
But Zakhad, usually the first to press for explanation, remained silent. They stepped away from him, and he looked at them in the moonlight streaming through the kitchen windows, tears on his cheeks.
"Have you ever regretted a decision that you knew you had to make?" he asked at last.
Deanna nodded, thinking she knew what he meant. "This has nothing to do with Sakhara, does it?"
"No. Nothing. This circumstance, the explanations -- reminded me. I haven't thought about -- " He turned, ears back, and looked out the window. "But I must be going. I've already been away too long. This may lengthen my stay at the station."
"Take Deanna with you," Zakhad said, looking at her sister-wife urgently. Deanna didn't know what she was thinking, but could make a reasonable guess -- 'figure out our husband, you're his bondmate.'
Gwaheer touched Deanna's face, then Zakhad's. "No, my lovely ones, stay with Zerin, and keep tomorrow's appointments. I will be all right."
He vanished without another word. Zakhad's tail lashed about her feet. "Has it occurred to you, Deanna, that we have married a stranger?"
%^%^%^%^%
Deanna held Gwaheer's hand as they walked through the crowded streets. The weather was particularly fine that day, after nearly ten days of torrential rain; the sky was still blotted with clouds, but the sun was bright and everything had a freshly-washed feel to it. The annual Feast of Winds celebration could go on as planned.
She stopped at a corner and put a hand to her abdomen, over the bulge of their second child. His momentary concern assuaged by her reassuring smile, he purred and kissed her forehead. They watched Zakhad, standing across the street holding Zerin up so he could see, over the heads and wings of the crowd, the We'lassi acrobat troupe performing on a makeshift stage.
Deanna became aware suddenly that Gwaheer's attention had strayed. His contentment had shifted, to a pathos she hadn't sensed in him since the regrettable incident with Sakhara six months before. She followed his gaze and froze.
Her husband was exchanging stares across the street with a tall Ryxian. The electricity between them startled her. She got the impression he hadn't seen the person in a long, long time.
A creepy feeling tiptoed up her back. She looked at Gwaheer's face and squeezed his fingers; he looked down at her, and to her further shock, his eyes were glittering.
"Old friend?" she asked softly, under the clamor around them.
He almost answered, but closed his mouth again. Then closed his eyes.
"Old *zizen?*"
His eyes opened, and his pupils shrank to nothing. "Do you remember I told you of the two zin I used to know, who lost their families? He was the other."
Deanna stared across the street at the man. He returned her gaze, wearing an unfathomable expression. She looked at Gwaheer again. "And?"
Gwaheer smiled, just a little, the sort of smile one wore when one wanted to cry instead. "You were not the only one who was once left behind, *kahzan'kahliu.*"
Deanna's heart skipped half a dozen beats and raced to catch up. She looked again, but the man was gone. Gwaheer cupped the back of her head in his hand and kissed her affectionately. "There are no easy decisions when it comes to the heart, my love," he whispered. "But you have been worth every sacrifice. Sakhara will come around. He will play with our daughter, and though it will never be the same as it was, it can be better than it is now. Let's join Zakhad and Zerin."