Chapter 346 - The Body Politic part 4

During my absence, Tapas and my granddaughters had taken up residence in one of the smaller caverns adjoining our living quarters. The Aerie was a complex of half a dozen interconnected caves. It was nothing so large as the God King's underground city, the Fen, but it comfortably housed about a dozen other blood drinkers. Eris and Usus occupied one of the other chambers, as well as Bhorg and Hammon and a blood drinker named Drago. At Zenzele's request, they had all withdrawn to give me some time to myself. Now, I am by no means a secretive person—in truth, I have been told I am quite the opposite, sometimes to an uncomfortable degree-- but I did not want my friends to see me reeling about like a drunkard as I tried to tame my new body. And that is what I did after everyone left. I fell countless times, tripping over my own feet. Flung myself into the walls. Smashed a couple clay pots. It had been two years since I'd possessed a body, and my new one didn't fit exactly right. It was very frustrating trying to relearn to walk, to dress myself and wield an implement without dropping it or poking myself in the eye. My physical form no longer quite matched my innate sense of self. I was like a pubescent boy who had sprouted a cubit over the summer, only amplified to the nth degree by my vampire powers. At dawn, Irema and Tapas returned to check on my wellbeing, presenting themselves like proselytes at the entrance of our quarters.

"Is he well enough for company?" Tapas asked.

Zenzele looked to me questioningly, and I rose and very carefully tottered over to greet them, guiding the movements of my limbs mostly by sight. Irema watched me walk with quiet amazement, and then I wrapped her in my arms and gave her a big hug. She leaned her head against my chest and hugged me back.

"Granddaughter," I said. "Thank you for rescuing me from my enemies. And thank you for indulging my vanity. I suppose I shouldn't be so modest. You've seen me in uglier circumstances. But I didn't want you to see me flailing about in this new body. It is… undignified."

Irema stepped back and gazed at me wonderingly. "I cannot believe how well it worked," she breathed. She touched my face, then trailed her fingers down my cheek to my neck. Her big brown eyes narrowed as she explored the tracery of scars where my head had fused with Yul's body. The joining was imperfect, but no worse than some old battle scar. "I was afraid it would not work," she said.

Again I was struck by how much she resembled her father. Ilio had been a handsome lad, but his features transcended mere handsomeness in his daughter. By the delicate curve of her nostrils, the ripeness of her lips, the length and profusion of her lashes, Irema's looks passed beyond mere attractiveness and into the domain of great beauty. And yet she was every bit her father's child. In her countenance I saw my son, and I loved her fiercely for it.

"Irema, my granddaughter," I said, holding her delicate shoulders in my hands. I nodded in satisfaction.

"Thest, my grandfather," Irema said, smiling back at me. "Also known as Gon." She laughed and went on, "You know, my father often told us how he campaigned to call you father. He said he begged you for years. Yet you always insisted that he call you Thest."

I nodded with a chuckle. "I did not want him to become too dependent on me. I was an immortal and he was just a mortal boy. I wanted him to grow into a man, to take a mortal wife and have a whole litter of fat little mortal children. I wanted a normal mortal life for him. Nevertheless, I always loved him as if he were my own son. I always did my best to protect him. It is my shame that I could not do even that. I tried to save him from the God King. I offered my life in exchange for his. But it wasn't enough."

"You cannot fault a man for failing," Irema said. "Only for failing to try at all."

"That sounds like something your grandfather might say."

She laughed. "It was!"

"I miss Valas, that old gossip."

"He lived a full life," Irema said.

"So he is dead."

Irema nodded sadly. "The year before I received the Blood. He died defending us from the God King's slavers."

"He died in battle?" I asked. "With blood gods?" It was hard for me to picture that. Valas was a lover of food and drink, of gossip and ease, not war.

Then again, so was I. Once.

Irema nodded. "He received the Blood with Tapas and my uncle Sephram. Father gave the Blood to several of our tribesmen after we joined with the Vis'hantu, to help defend our two peoples from the Uroboran raiders. All three became powerful blood drinkers. But strength is not always enough."

"There is so much that I would like to know," I said. "About you and your sister, about our Tanti tribesmen. They remain free, do they not? They are safe from the God King's raiders?"

"Yes, they are still free. For now. As for their safety, they are as safe as anyone can be in these times. I could Share with you if you'd like. Then you would know everything."

I nodded. "I would like that. Soon, perhaps. But not now. Yul still rattles in my skull like an angry prisoner. It is taxing. Perhaps when I am stronger, and Yul's cheated screams are not so strident."

I feared that it would be a very long time before I had absorbed the Eternal's personae. I felt like a snake slowly digesting a big rat, but I did not confess my concerns to the young ones. It was better that they be confident in me. They would sleep more soundly believing I was fully restored, or very near to it.

I turned to Tapas.

"And you," I said. "The threads of our fates seem strangely intertwined, separate, and yet knotted at the most fortuitous intervals."

Tapas bowed. "So it would seem, grandfather."

"I would know how you came by the Blood," I said. "Not to mention my granddaughters' hands in marriage. Which of those feats, I wonder, was the greater challenge?"

"I would be honored to entertain you with my tale," he said. "But it grows light out, and I'm sure we could all use some sleep."

"Tonight, perhaps? After we have fed."

He nodded. "For certain."

"Then I bid you good day."

"You as well." Tapas bowed to Zenzele. "By your leave, Mother."

Zenzele nodded. "Of course, Tapas."

Tapas headed toward one of the side passages. He stopped to claim a torch and then ducked into the adjoining corridor. Irema followed, but only after planting a kiss on my cheek. She bowed to Zenzele. "I will guard you in your sleep," she promised my mate. "The God King will not trouble you today."

"Thank you, Irema," Zenzele said.

Irema slipped into the darkness, hurrying after her giant husband.

Zenzele looked at me and smiled. Though she was gaunt, I thought her just as beautiful as the night I first laid eyes on her. "Shall we retire as well, my love?" she asked. "It has been a long time since I've had a good day's sleep."

I followed her around the bend in the cavern, to the alcove where we took our sleep through the daylight hours. She had redecorated since I'd left, little touches like new furs and small keepsakes set about on shelves of stone. Wall hangings brightened the gray limestone walls. A collection of semi-precious stones, andradite and beryl and amethyst, glittered upon an outcrop of jasper. I felt like an intruder suddenly, and wandered around the chamber while Zenzele prepared our bedding. I was just nosing about really, keeping myself occupied. Leaning against the wall in one corner of the room were a couple of the Uroboran's strange bladed staffs. The blades were made of metal, crudely shaped but sharpened to a razor's edge. The making of the blades was still a mystery to us, though we had taken the Blood of many fallen foes in search of the secret. I wondered if the secret of the glinting material had been discovered in my absence, and then noticed several fur-wrapped bundles tucked into a cleft in the wall. The size and shape of the bundles gave me pause, and I looked back at Zenzele.

"Are those my--?"

"An arm and two legs," Zenzele said.

My arm. My two legs.

"Would you like to see them?" Zenzele asked.

"No," I said quickly, wrinkling my nose at the thought. I didn't want to examine my severed limbs. There was no point. Instead, I picked up one of the primitive halberds. I stroked the strange material that tipped the staff. It had the look of a liquid, was even somewhat pliant, but held an edge like nothing we'd ever seen before. Unlike stone blades, this material bent when struck rather than shattering. The God King's warriors had used the weapons to devastating effect, lopping off the heads of our warriors with horrific efficiency, until we scavenged enough of the weapons to even the odds a little.

I sliced my thumb on the edge of the blade and hissed at the pain. The injury healed almost instantly, of course, but it still hurt.

"Gon, come to bed."

I moved to comply, placing the weapon back against the wall and lurching across the room to our bed. I fumbled off my clothes as I went and lowered down beside her, moving carefully so as not to injure or embarrass either of us. Zenzele swept the covers over us and snuggled up against me, settling into the pit of my arm and laying her cheek upon my chest. She drew back a little then, a faint expression of distaste on her face.

"Is it so terrible?" I asked.

"I prefer your original body," Zenzele said. "It fit me better. This one is too fat." Her hand slid down under the covers. "And not fat enough where I'd rather it be."

"I could send for Tapas," I teased her.

She withdrew her hand to slap me on the chest. "Don't even joke about that! I pity that man's poor wives!"

"Irema does not seem to mind."

"She loves him," Zenzele said. "I do not. Not in the same manner anyway. Love tolerates many things."

"A strange body, perhaps?" I said, raising an eyebrow.

"I'll just pretend you've gotten fat while you were away."

"Fat, hairless and half a cock shy," I said.

Zenzele laughed. "You think highly of yourself, don't you?"

"You do not agree?"

"I think you might be exaggerating a little."

"Why don't we see?"

"All right. But stay under the covers. I don't want to see your… his body." I started to rise and she pushed me back down. "Not until you've gained a little more control," she explained, sliding a leg across my waist. I acquiesced, and she eased her weight-- which was hardly any weight at all in her half-starved, wearied state-- upon me. The hands I placed so gently upon her breasts were not my hands, but the sentiment was all mine. She grabbed my wrists and closed her eyes, easing me into her body.

"Now I'm home," I sighed.