Schism: Part One of Triad Read Free Page B

murmured, giving their sister’s age in octal instead of decimal.
    “Eleven. And no matter how you count it, she’s too young to marry Lord Rillia and I’ve no intention of doing so.”
    Shannon’s lips curved upward witii that otherworldly beauty of his. “Gods help Lord Rillia if Father did make you marry him.”
    “Very funny.” Soz turned to watch Althor, who was talking with Del and Kelric. Her brothers never stopped lamenting poor Lord Rillia’s dire fate, destined to marry her. Soz had other plans.
    Eldrinson entered the Hearth Room flanked by his sons, Al-thor on one side and Del on the other. Kelric came, too. A sense of light filled Eldrinson.
    Althor’s arrival had been a fine moment, a fine moment indeed.
    A flurry of motion erupted across the room as Roca swept into the hall, surrounded by people. Tall and vibrant, she riveted his attention even after all these years. Her creamy skin had gold highlights and her eyes resembled liquid gold. Her hair fell down her shoulders, arms, and back, gold, bronze, and copper, all those curls he loved to play with at night. Her face and body had inspired an uncounted number of literary works, symphonies, and other art across the Imperialate. During her years as a dancer with the Parthonia Royal Ballet, she had dazzled audiences. Now she dazzled him.
    One of their other sons arrived with her, Vyrl. Roca said the name Vyrl should be pronounced Vahrielle, with an Iotic accent. Eldrinson had never mastered the accent; he drawled Verle just like everyone else in Dalvador. His son’s mane of hair curled to his shoulders, gold and bronze, with metallic glints, but he had die Lyshrioli violet eyes. He was a good head taller than his father, with a muscular, graceful physique honed by years of dance training.
    It bewildered Eldrinson that Vyrl loved to dance. Mercifully, for now the boy had chosen Lily and farming over going offworld to become a performer like his mother. Men in Dalvador never danced. Although Eldrinson understood that no one looked askance at a male dancer among Roca’s people, here it would be a terrible scandal. People would consider such a man female. Well, supposedly. Lily knew and she didn’t seem to mind.
    In any case, it warmed him to see the young couple. And they had brought the grandchildren. Hallie, their three-year-old, skipped through the room, her curls flopping around
     
    her shoulders, her eyes bright, her cheeks plump and rosy. Lily carried the two-year-old, and Vyrl cradled the baby in his arms.
    “Althor!” Roca threw her arms around her son. He gathered her into a hug, both of them glimmering in the light from the lamps in the Hearth Room. Then they separated and Roca tilted her head back to look up at him. “Honestly, you’ve grown again.”
    He grinned at her. “Ten more centimeters.”
    Roca’s laugh sparkled. “You will increase the gravity of Lyshriol.”
    Eldrinson slapped Althor on the back. “So he will.” He motioned everyone toward the end of the hall, where sofas and chairs stood around the bluestone hearth. Hallie ran away giggling, chased by Keltic, and the rest followed, Vyrl bouncing the baby.
    One discord jangled in their harmonious gathering: Tahota, the woman who had accompanied Althor, a tall Skolian with gray-streaked hair. She stayed in the background, silent. Her clothes had a military aspect, dark blue tunic and trousers with gold insignia on the shoulders and chest He recognized only the symbol of the Imperialate, an exploding sun within a circle; the other markings meant nothing to him.
    Tahota seemed bemused by me commotion. Was she a romantic interest for Althor? Surely not. On Lyshriol, a woman of her appearance would be about five octets in age. Given how Skolians could delay getting older, though, she could be any age. Regardless, she was much too mature in years for Althor. Besides, she was obviously inappropriate. A female warrior? No. It was too much. Althor epitomized the military ideal: