It had been almost two months since Esti had seen her brothers.

They'd gone out on the raid, and no word had been heard until her father and his men went after them in the middle of the night, screeching off into the darkness like flying banshees. When weeks passed and even Zeru and his men did not return, the tribe was sick with worry -- and none more so than Esti. The Zerui and her mother seemed to understand; with two brothers and her father all gone, she was pale, thin, refusing food. No one fretted. They reassured her that her family would return and then left her to her own devices.

And return they did, barely two weeks ago: the men, and Zeru, and Iñaki... but no Xanti. They had scoured the lands and forests, and found no signs of him. And after two weeks, the men were beginning to consider Xanti as dead. But even that was not the worst of it. Iñaki had been wounded in the raid, and Esti was not allowed to see him. The very thought of him made her stomach churn uncomfortably, wondering what sort of wound this was that they would not let even his sister visit him. The voices of the tribe distracted her, and as time passed and Xanti had not been found, the whisper that Iñaki may have had some hand in his death made Esti angry and frightened.

And so it was that she slipped through the camp now, as the women were preparing lunch and skinning the previous day's kills, on her way to the healer's tent and Iña. The elderly man nodded when he saw her, stopping to talk with her for a brief moment before the girl's temper started to show. Then he stepped aside and let her enter the soft dimness of the tent, making sure that his charge was awake before stepping outside to eat.

It didn't matter to Esti that it was lunchtime, the worry that knotted in her belly made her unable to eat. She'd grown thinner, and hid it under a loose tunic and doeskin breeches, her feet bare against the furs as she made her way to her brother's side.

"Iñaki," she whispered, touching his shoulder tentatively. With his back to her, she couldn't see any visible wounds. What was keeping him here?

"Esti!"

Iñaki had almost given up hope of seeing her. His wound had grown poisonous a few days after he'd gotten the injury, and for a week he'd lain febrile and hallucinating, until the healer's efforts had leached away the infection. Then he had felt nothing but the burning ache where his eye had been and the deeper ache in his gut, when he was told Xanti couldn't be found.

He didn't want to turn toward Esti; it was vain, but he didn't want her to see him. Maybe not so vain. He knew it would cause her pain to see him in pain.

"Don't be frightened," he said in a low voice before he turned around, one hand to the bandaged left side of his face. He sat up slowly, still weak from the fever, and groped for her hand, his movements tentative. It was harder to tell distances with only one eye. "It could have been much worse. Esti, are you all right?" She looked almost wasted.

"Don't be frightened."

Esti felt him shifting before she saw it, her heart pounding as she waited for him to face her. No one ever told you not to be frightened unless something really horrible had happened, or was about to happen -- like a bear standing behind you. He had sounded normal, but now Esti could only wait with bated breath to see what had befallen her anaia-emaite.

When she finally could see his face, his hand covered the left side; underneath, between his fingers, she could see the linen-white of bandage, in some places blood-spotted. Cold revulsion rose in her throat as she realized -- his eye. It had been his eye. But as Iñaki reached for her hand, she took it in both of hers, squeezing tight. "Oh Iñaki, you're really in no place to be asking me if I'm alright." She gave him a little smile, trying not to gag on worry or fear. "I was so worried, and then aita told me I could not see you. But I had to come, when they said you were healing I had to."

She reached out tentatively to touch his face, her fingertips hovering for just a moment over the right side of his face before running down his cheek gently, quickly, onto his shoulder.

"Esti--" Iñaki let his hand drop from the ruined left side of his face, and relaxed into her caress. He let his hands slide up her arms, to her shoulders. They were thinner than he remembered; he could feel the bones beneath her skin. A little flinchingly, he leaned forward, his lips brushing over her cheek, then kissed her on the mouth.

He had decided weeks ago not to tell her about Mikel, but found it was harder when he came face-to-face with her. Why not? Maybe because Mikel lay close to death, still recovering from his wounds, or because he thought he could understand why he'd done it.

"They still think Xanti is dead," he said at last, his voice low. "You know that--" She was wearing the undyed clothing of one in mourning. "It feels evil to say it, but maybe it was Eguzki's will..." He drew back from her and shut his eye. "Eguzki forgive me, I had to say it."

Her name on his lips sounded so perfect that she forgot her momentary squeamishness and eased into his touch. Through the un-dyed tunic she could feel the heat of his hands -- was he still suffering from a fever? Perhaps it was just that she'd lost weight; she was colder now than usual, all the time, with less flesh to warm her bones. Iñaki leaned forward, and she bent her head to meet him, felt the searing heat of his breath as his lips brushed her cheek, then tentatively kissed her lips. And she tried to give as much comfort, as much reassurance as she could, squeezing his shoulder as he sank back onto the furs.

It was a moment that they sat there, neither of them speaking, Esti's gaze searching the wounded half of his face. From outside the smells of blood and fresh meat wafted in, and as the scent hit her, so did the image of Iñaki being brought in to the healer, his eye and cheek just so much meat...

She had to cover her mouth with the back of her hand as she gagged a little, swallowing the repulsive image. He was still Iñaki, she reminded herself, still Iñaki, and found that with the thought came the twin thought that she loved him still equally, if not more. "Don't. You're not evil," she chided him gently, smiling as the color rose back into her cheeks, washing away the nausea. The smile quickly faded, however, as she reminded herself that she had gotten her horrible, morbid wish. "I wished it. I wished him gone, and it came true, and I feel terrible. I've been ill since you left. You see it."

She could tell. A little curious look had passed over him when he'd gripped her shoulders, and though she'd always been thin, the sharper parts of her body had grown almost skeletal. "Eguzki forgive us both," she whispered.

"He will," Iñaki said, watching his sister's pale, drawn face. What frightened him more than Eguzki's rage was Eguzki's approval. What it might mean frightened him. It might mean that he would really be the Warlord one day, and he didn't think he could be. Never in his life had he wished for anything more than a woman he could love and a quiet life. As Warlord, he would bear great burdens, and he was not naïve enough to believe that Zeru would live forever.

One day, one day soon, he would find himself a Warlord in wartime, against a formidable enemy. And he knew he'd have little support from the Zerui.

"Esti, Esti..." He reached for her, pulling her down beside him. Her skin felt chalky and cold. "You have to take care of yourself. So do I. They might start to think we're cursed." His voice went from soothing to dry as he said this. It was true; they would have to be very careful how they were seen from now on.

She certainly hoped that Eguzki would forgive them, else nothing would be easy for them. With Xanti gone -- Eguzki strike her now! -- she hoped that things would be simpler, but Esti knew somewhere in her heart that that was not going to be the case. Nothing was ever simple when the tribe was involved, and they would have to be especially careful now that Xanti was presumed dead.

Esti tried to give Iñaki a smile, but it faltered on her lips and died. He reached for her, drawing her down next to him on the furs. She relaxed into his touch, the heat of his body beside hers soothing. For the second time, tears lurked behind her eyes. How she had missed him! And Esti hadn't even really realized it until just now, lying next to him, how much she'd missed him. "I'm trying," she whispered, tentatively reaching up to his face, touching the bandages as lightly as she could. "I've been missing you terribly. Iña, they've already begun to talk. Just that you came back... and Xanti didn't. And the whole tribe knows that I love you best."

Her arm snaked around his side, sapping what warmth she could get from his skin. A new scar or two formed under her hand as she rested beside him, eyes fluttering. As much as eating had escaped her, so had sleep, and now that she knew he was safe, she hoped that the insomnia would stop plaguing her.

"I did my best to find him," Iñaki whispered, closing his eye to keep back tears, pulling Esti's body tightly against him. "I tried, but by that time I was already injured, and Father's men took me over the wall, and I couldn't see him anywhere. The cursed interlopers probably haven't even given him a proper burning ceremony. They bury their dead like dogs."

Iñaki let himself feel the full horror of it, and he felt it not without guilt. Guilt was why he had tried so hard to look for his brother. Guilt, because it was only due to Xanti's death that he had Esti now. Because to him she was worth his brother and worth the loss of his eye. Now that he had her, though, he felt a sudden release of the burden, and he looked the truth in the face.

He grieved. Honestly and completely, if only for a moment, he grieved over his brother's fate. Not as Xanti the future Warlord. Not as Xanti the Magnificent, Xanti the only true sem'Zeru, but Xanti as he remembered him when he had been small. Xanti his brother.

"It isn't your fault, it isn't mine," he whispered, stroking Esti's hair. "And Father has taken one of the interlopers--" His voice turned hard. Before, Iñaki had always been uneasy over sacrifices, but now he could see a reason. "We'll spill his blood to Eguzki in partial payment for Xanti's, and I'll pray that his soul reaches Eguzki even if they didn't burn him."

Iñaki's arms tightened around her, and Esti pressed herself against him. The easy comfort of her brother's presence was soothing as always, his warmth a welcome pleasure, but something about him felt different somehow. Esti reminded herself that it had been two months since they'd last been together, truly together. She was sure she felt different to him, too; they'd both gotten leaner, she thought, and his muscles more wiry.

And somehow, even though the thought of having lost a brother should have been much more sad, Esti thought that perhaps they didn't know each other as well anymore, after being separated. Tears threatened, and she buried her face in his shoulder, hearing the soothing shush of the furs on her clothing. "I'll miss him," she said, her mind going back to Xanti when they were children. Before Zeru had stepped in and laid all the responsibility on them, and put up a wall of fear and loathing between Esti and her eldest brother. "I may not have wanted him as a husband, but I still wanted him as a brother."

She cuddled closer as Iñaki ran his fingers through her hair, making a quiet noise of happiness despite the sadness around them. There was always a little haven of peace among the noise, and that was Iñaki. No matter where they were, as long as they were together, Esti could be at peace. If even for just a moment.

Iñaki buried his face in the crook of Esti's neck, inhaling the warm salt-sweet scent of her skin. The left side of his face stung, but he ignored it. He kissed her neck. Taut, delicate tendons shifted beneath the touch of his lips. The skin of her arms and back, as his questing hands slid beneath her tunic, was cool, but her neck was hot, almost feverish. He let his tongue touch her skin, soothing it.

"Esti, sweet one," he whispered to her. His voice was almost tearful. He wondered why the eye he didn't have ached, as though it longed to cry. "I love you."

He wanted to express much more than that, but he didn't have the words. No--he didn't have the courage. To tell her that they were linked in cowardice and pride. That their faults united them, bound them together, even more than their virtues. Theirs was a guilty pleasure. He felt sure that it was transient, because it came from youthful solipsism--a kind of closeness that might vanish with real understanding.

But for now... "I love you so much." He slid her tunic over he head and moved his lips down to her breasts.

Esti let Xanti's disappearance slip from her thoughts as he buried his face in the nape of her neck, tongue darting out silver-quick to taste her clammy skin. Her arms tightened around Iñaki, knowing that the one to die could just as easily have been him. It chilled her to the very bones to think about it. She knew somewhere, or thought she knew and convinced herself that it was true, that Eguzki had intended this for some reason or purpose bigger than the both of them. Maybe bigger than all of them.

"Esti, sweet one. I love you."

"I love you," she whispered back, punctuating it with a kiss to his throat, Iñaki's pulse thrumming beneath her lips. She'd been cold for weeks without him there, and now Esti finally felt warmth returning. She fit herself to the curve of his body, bestowing one more kiss to his shoulder before his hands were sliding the fabric of her tunic over her head. "More than anything," was her mumbled response, before a noise from the outside world awoke her. "Iñaki, what if someone comes--"

But then his mouth was on her breast and Esti was having a bit of trouble thinking any longer. Instead she ran her hands over the planes of his back, felt the sunken bones of his spine beneath her fingers, and the motion of muscles under his hot skin. And she tried to get as close as she could to the man -- now a warrior -- she'd missed so much.

Iñaki lost himself in the familiarity of Esti's body. They had to be quiet, and he focused on that. He turned his head and bit the skin of his own right shoulder to keep from making noise, and his fingers dug into Esti's back. His eye was closed in ecstasy, so he didn't notice when Hodei came back into the tent.

When he looked again, he saw the healer standing over them. He was a middle-aged man, tall and imposing, a warrior as well as a healer and a friend of their father's. He had frighteningly light eyes, a brown so leached of color it was almost gray. Iñaki couldn't think of what to say.

He pulled the blanket quickly up to cover his and Esti's nakedness, but he could tell it was too late. Stupid, stupid! How could they have been so stupid? Xanti was barely with Eguzki. Maybe he was a secret prisoner. No one knew, but they would believe the worst now. Iñaki was struck dumb. "I-I-" He lapsed into stuttering under the pallid rebuke of Hodei's gaze. His arms tightened around Esti.

Esti shivered under his touch, the pent-up feelings that had lain silent for two months flooding back to the surface. All thoughts of Xanti and the sacrifice and Zeru slipped from her mind, leaving nothing but Iñaki and the steady urge to breathe. And she caught her lip between her teeth, biting down on it to keep quiet, eventually substituting it for the feel of his skin being displaced by her sharp fingernails. Momentarily she thought of the scores it might leave, and the plan to lay low, but then the skin of her back tore under Iñaki's harsh caress, and she forgot all else.

The next time she opened her eyes, lazily, was when Iña tightened his arms around her. But instead of that loving, affectionate gaze, she saw a turned cheek, and followed his look upwards --

Hodei stood over them, and it took all Esti had not to scream in horror. She whimpered pitifully and buried her head in the crook of Iñaki's neck, even while he fumbled for words. It was no use! They'd been caught. And while she felt a fleeting anger that she'd been unable to control herself, and known somehow that this would happen but had been unable to make him listen, Esti's chest filled with a solemn resignation.

There was nothing to do now but beg and plead that Hodei would say nothing to their father. And pray to Eguzki for forgiveness.

"What is this?" Hodei looked calm. Iñaki feared calm more than anger.

But there was nothing to be done. He couldn't cringe and lie--it was as though a veil had been lifted with his eye. He had to face what he had done. "This is what it looks like. Esti and I love each other."

He made no apologies for her status, or his own. He knew he was not the true sem'Zeru--or had not been, or would not be accepted as such yet. If the circumstances were different, Esti's love might have been seen as a blessing. As it was, it was a further mark of suspicion.

Hodei inclined his head slightly. At least he's honest, he thought. And privately, he could not believe that small, weak Iñaki could have conspired to kill his brother for the limp and unattractive object of his affections. A poor leader. Two poor leaders. But it was Eguzki's will--not that Eguzki had never been given a helping hand... Hodei shook away these thoughts.

He was a healer, first of all things. What he had seen of Iñaki was good--the boy looked healthier, and he was getting back some color. If he could engage in such exertions, the infection was likely burnt away, though he would see a nasty scar when he lifted the bandages.

"Well." He stood quietly for a moment. "I have to check my patient's bandages." He glanced at Esti. "You don't look too well yourself," he said drily. "Clothe yourself and then I'll see if I have time to look at you, too. The Warlord can't afford to lose more children." He covered his eyes with one hand to allow Esti time to change, then set to examining Iñaki. "The bandages can come off today," he said softly. "You'll have a patch. The scar is large. You won't be so handsome anymore, I'm afraid."

Iñaki swallowed. He felt paralyzed. At last, he nodded. "It's Eguzki's will," he said softly.

"It is." Hodei's expression was enigmatic. He pulled away the bandages, and Iñaki winced a little. At last, the man handed him a cotton patch to wrap around his head and sat back on his heels. Iñaki tried not to look at his reflection in the brass mirror that rested nearby. He failed. What he saw was horrible. He tied on the patch quickly and shut his good eye, looking away from Hodei and Esti alike.

"You'll tell Zeru."

"Of course." Hodei looked toward Esti. His expression didn't change.

"This is what it looks like. Esti and I love each other."

And there it was. The awful, incredible truth of it all. Esti's head fell back to rest on the pillowed furs, and she turned her face to press her cheek against Iñaki's bandaged cheek -- lightly, of course. There was an agonizing moment that passed before Hodei said anything at all. And then -- "Well." It sounded like a death toll ringing. Or the great bronze bells on the walls of the interlopers palisades.

Hope sprang into Esti's chest when the healer didn't curse them or rain down Eguzki's fire on them. Instead, he needed to look at Iñaki and offered to take a look at her as well. Moving quickly, jerkily, Esti peeled herself away from her brother, their skins stuck together with a glistening sheen of sweat, and knelt beside him. She pulled her clothes onto her lap and then bent, running spidery fingers over his perfect cheek and into his hair, to give him one last kiss. "I love you," she whispered, just loud enough for Hodei to hear, and smiled at Iña.

And then she scurried out of Hodei's way, giving the healer a sidelong glance before she pulled her tunic over her head. Esti knelt back down on the furs a few feet away without putting her breeches back on -- instead she folded them and set them neatly beside her. It was all out in the open now, anyway. Hodei had seen them together, and he was one of Zeru's most trusted friends. It was more incriminating than the testimony of any other, moreso than the entire tribe's gossip put together. But somehow, Esti couldn't bring herself to berate their obvious stupidity. They were in love, and there was no changing it; it was just unfortunate that they had been found out at such an inopportune moment.

Her hands were trembling wildly, however, and a strange dizziness buzzed in her brain. Esti looked at her brother as Hodei removed the bandages, and though she loved him, her stomach convulsed at the sight of his ruined eye. She turned to one side, gagged, covered her mouth with one hand. But what Hodei said made her sicker still than the sight of Iñaki's brown eye, now just so much meat.

"You can't," she burst out, unable to stop herself. The poor girl was near tears, it was obvious, and shaking like a leaf. Pale and drawn, she hunched over her knees and simply stared at the floor. "Please. You don't know what -- I can't --" Her voice dropped to a whisper, and Esti looked up at the healer with great moon eyes, sparkling with desperate tears. "He'll beat me. And we'll end up right back here. Do you understand? No, no." She shook her head, though it was not for anyone but herself that she protested 'no'.

Esti said, "I feel fine." But the look she shot Hodei read 'betrayer'. The last thing she wanted was the hands of this wretched man on her. And in her belly she knew that she was sick, that they both were, that they had brought this upon themselves. But in her head she knew that Hodei was the easiest to blame, and that despite it all, she was nothing more than a frightened child in the face of her father's wrath.

"Tell him yourself," Hodei said calmly. He turned to prepare a tea that could calm both of them. Iñaki looked shaken too, more so at Esti's consternation than out of real fear for himself. "Zeru will punish you, or not, as he sees fit, or he may agree with you--" A glace at Iñaki. "--that it is Eguzki's will." What he didn't say, though he knew it, was that now that Esti and Iñaki were the unfortunate future of the Zerui people, Zeru couldn't disapprove of them too publicly.

Something had changed in Iñaki since the skirmish. He had come face-to-face with death in the person of one of his only friends, and he had realized something fundamental about the importance of life. Whether he thought it was more or less important--in fact, what he thought at all--remained uncertain. What was, however, obvious, was--change.

He reached out for Esti, drawing her close, an arm around the shoulders, though he still felt self-conscious about the new patch on his eye. He'd get used to it. He got used to everything, eventually.

Hodei had been sunk deep in thought, and now came back with two cups of tea. He averted his eyes from the display of affection, which seemed inappropriate so close to this tragedy. But it was quite clear this affair had been going on before Xanti's passing.

"Esti," he said. His low voice wasn't unkind. "You've gotten very thin." He had seen similar symptoms before, and once he had seen a young boy die, his stomach eaten away by internal growths. Another time, he had seen what they called Eguzki's Fire burning in someone: the girl ate great quantities of food but her body couldn't hold it, she urinated copiously and her water tasted of sugar, and soon she fell into the sleep that had no end. Hodei hoped Esti didn't suffer from one of these diseases; he knew of no cure for either, and if she died, Zeru's line would become even more tenuous. Hodei felt a stab of grief for his friend and Warlord. The third possibility was that she was in the early stages of pregnancy, but that was almost a more unwelcome one.

"It's my job to heal, not to talk about Tribal politics. I don't want to do that. And I won't tell Zeru, but you must, within the day." He watched them both now.

"Now, Esti, I have to ask you some questions. Are you able to eat? Do you vomit? Do you feel sharp pain in your stomach?" The last was in case she had one of the cauliflower-growths he had seen.

It was no use. All of Esti's fire and brimstone had no power in the face of a calm wind, and Hodei was completely and utterly calm. She and Iñaki had no choice but to do as he asked, not because they wanted to, but because they had to. It would be better if they told Zeru themselves, and she had given all she could give to keep him from unmasking them. It had worked -- marginally. If you could call this horrible situation a victory, then she had won. Esti didn't see it that way.

Iñaki pulled her against him, and Esti could do nothing but curl up against him and think. And all her thoughts conspired to prevent her from speaking save one escaped sob. Her hands were still shaking, though she'd regained some color during the moments in which Hodei had gone to make tea. When the healer came back in, she scrambled to make sure that her tunic was in order over her legs, that she wasn't indecent, even though they'd done nothing more than embrace since he'd left them.

"I've always been very thin," she replied quietly. The firm control Hodei had over himself had put her in an almost docile state -- Esti knew a tantrum would get her nowhere, she was smart enough for that. "But yes, you're right. While the men were gone I -- I just felt too worried to eat much."

She glanced at Iña, then looked up at Hodei, her head dropped low with fatigue. Her desperate outburst and constant anxiety, coupled with their previous exertions, had taken most of the fight out of her, and she hadn't been sleeping well to begin with. Something had not felt right. Esti hoped that the insomnia would resolve itself now that Iñaki was home, and healing.

"We will, Healer. I haven't been hungry for anything, and so I've been eating less -- I don't have any pain. I've vomited a few times, but I didn't think it was anything to worry about. My mother and the women told me it was just a fear-sickness, with my brothers and my father off fighting. So I hoped it would stop when they came home. And then Xanti went missing, and Iñaki was here, hurt, and I was forbidden to come see him... I was afraid. I thought that was all." She shrugged, drawing her fingers through her loose hair, tying the usual thong of leather around it and tumbling the dark waves into a sloppy bun before leaning against Iñaki again.

Esti rested her hands in her lap, wondering what Hodei was getting at with these questions.

"Esti, don't fear to answer this." It was easier with female healers, but he was the one who was here. Hodei felt a little embarrassed; he didn't even like to ask his wife about this, but she'd given him three children, all of which (along with many others) he had delivered, so he knew what he was talking about. "Have you had your courses? Do your breasts pain you?" He tried to examine her form. With a body as slight as Esti's, any change was obvious. "Let me touch you, please." He nodded to Iñaki in a businesslike way.

It still stabbed at him to see these two together. Oh, he had known that Xanti wasn't enamored of his sister. But he had always thought of Xanti as so much more... well, more of a Warlord. He saw in Iñaki's pitiful, underdeveloped, and now crippled form the death of the Zerui people. And he hated it.

He moved his hand to her breasts, and felt her flinch, then down to her belly, which was sunken. But his hand unerringly found where it was hard. His eyebrows went up. How long had they been... or had she and Xanti... no, that was an impossible hope.

"You two..." He shut his eyes and drew back. "You are very unfortunate... Esti, I think you're pregnant. Maybe half a season, a season."

Iñaki's face paled. He could think nothing.

Had she had her courses? She couldn't remember that far back, only remembered that for the last two months she had gone through the motions of daily routine numbly. Esti tried to think, but nothing came to mind. She'd had them for years, it was absolutely normal that she had them, nothing fantastic or memorable about it. And she'd been so consumed with worry that she hadn't even thought of it. Her breasts -- did they pain her? She wrapped both arms over her breasts and squeezed down gently. Pain, no, at least not the kind of pain that made you simply want to scream or sleep until it went away.

"I can't remember," she whispered. "No, they don't hurt or anything. Unless, you know, I press on them or something, but that's how they've always -- alright, I mean, you can --" But the healer was already closing the distance between them, and his hand came down on her breast. She flinched visibly, twitching away from the unexpected and unwanted touch. Hodei's hand followed the sunken curve of her body and rested, curiously, on the lowest part of her belly. Esti knew something was wrong as soon as he touched it, because his eyebrows nearly leapt off his face.

Hodei drew back, and when he looked at her again, it was with a discouraged resignation. He was talking, but all she head was the word 'pregnant' and 'half a season, a season'. Esti's lips parted in shock; she tried to breathe but ended up laughing halfway through the first breath, a shaky, incredulous laughter that broke in her throat. "What?"

It took a second for her to realize that he was serious -- and her mind went back to that night, that impossible night before the raid -- two months ago. Two months. She shot a glance at Iñaki, but he had gone still and pale, and would obviously be no help at the moment. Esti returned her attention to Hodei, then, unsure. "I can't. I mean, it was two months -- no, no. No, father will be furious! I can't -- Iña. Healer. How?"

A tiny pain in her hand where her nails had begun to bite the skin drew her eyes downward, and when she looked, the drape of her tunic caught her eye. Somewhere in there... somewhere in her belly, something was growing. Esti covered her sunken belly with her arms and tried to feel anything except revulsion, but failed. "What can I do? I mean -- we can't -- what if I don't want it?"

Iñaki was terrified. He could only think of how this looked. And he wondered: had Eguzki cursed their child because it was conceived when its conception was against all the tribal laws? Before Xanti's passing. Before he had been the true sem'Zeru. Worse... Oh.... Eguzki... had this child doomed his brother? Had Eguzki tipped the balances so that the Zerui could live, the line continue, if his and Esti's child lived and Xanti died?

The reality of the situation hit him next. It was more unusual for Warlords and their consorts to conceive outside of marriage than it was for most Baskar, but not forbidden. He and Esti would have to have their marriage ceremony at Midsummer, after the sacrifice, a ceremony of renewal.

Then he thought of more reality. He was sixteen. Very few of his friends were married. None had children. He was too young. And Esti was far too young, barely fourteen, and she had such a small body... he knew of women, mostly young ones, who never survived to see their sons or daughters. He clenched one hand over Esti's and bowed his head.

"No. You cannot commit the second abomination--you--" Hodei shook his head at the young girl. She's no Warlord's wife, he thought, uneasily.

"This I have to tell Zeru," he muttered, his face pale. He drew back, feeling very unsettled. His thoughts followed some of the same paths as Iñaki's had. And Zeru would kill him if he didn't tell him--Hodei was practically sure that was true. "Excuse me."

He stood up, looking down at the young couple, the future of the Zerui, and he left.

Iñaki felt as though he were collapsing like an empty waterskin, sucked dry of emotion. He wrapped his arms tentatively around Esti.

Oh, Eguzki...

Esti couldn't think of Xanti or fate or prophecy. Her mind was consumed by the thing -- for after all, what was it? -- that was growing inside her, slowly, making her sick and thin. She was fourteen. Amaya had been too shy or too ignorant to talk to her daughter about such things, and Esti was helpless. "Wait --" she tried to keep Hodei from going. "Wait, I don't -- I won't kill it. How long does it have to... I don't even know. What do I have to do?"

It seemed her pleas fell on deaf ears; the healer vanished, on his way to tell the Warlord the news.

Iñaki put his arms around her, and Esti sat numbly in his embrace, lost in thought. If it was two months ago, then how long did they have? What did it look like; was it a child yet, or still some shapeless idea twisted up in her belly? Would they marry now? And if they did, they would have to do it before she started to show. Oh, Eguzki -- she thought of Maya, the pregnant widow, and the gross swell of her body. The purple ripples that had appeared where her very flesh had stretched to make room for the thing living inside her. Would Esti get that big? And when she did, if she did, oh, Iñaki's eyes -- eye, she reminded herself grimly -- would wander to someone prettier and less... less pregnant.

Esti felt as though she were going to cry. "Iña... I'm scared. What do we do?"

Iñaki didn't know what to say. He just held Esti and made soft soothing noises, like his mother had made to him (he dimly, dimly remembered) when he had been very small. "I'm scared too," he admitted, never being one for masculine shows of bravado. He kissed her lightly on the cheek. He could feel the trembling of her body; it was all too clear how scared she was. And he was scared, too, though not of all the same things. No, what Iñaki feared more than anything was: adulthood, and the judgment of the tribe. He had not felt like an adult since his Sundance. Despite his injury and the skirmish, he still didn't really feel like one. Let alone a parent. Zeru, he thought, would come soon, and he couldn't touch Esti, so he'd probably give him another lashing.

Well, physical pain, Iñaki had found, was the least of it. Mikel wasn't the only one--he swallowed a lump in his throat. Mikel wasn't the only one who'd hate him for this. Was Eguzki punishing him? Was that the whole shape of his life, a punishment from Eguzki?

"When Zeru comes," he said at last, stroking Esti's hair, "we'll tell him. And we'll trust in Eguzki." He felt uneasy. He knew the God was testing him. He knew that he could either step forward into the light and claim understanding, claim the mantle of Warlord-to-be, or he could sink back into darkness. He knew it for a choice. To follow Eguzki's command, or not. To be Warlord, to be holy, or to refuse it. "We'll trust Him," he said, his voice stronger, and then, almost too softly to be heard, "because only He can keep us alive."

Esti's trembling only increased when suddenly she heard the hard slap of the tent flap being tossed roughly out of the way. When she looked up from the comforting circle of Iñaki's arms, the figure of their father loomed over them, even his shadow distinctive and frightening. Zeru's face was a muddied pool -- unreadable, mixed with too many emotions to count.

The Warlord felt rage, worry, defiance, confusion, and indecision. And all of this was directed to his two children, who sat at his feet, obviously involved with one another. Simply the way Iñaki was holding his daughter made Zeru's blood boil dangerously. It should have been Iñaki that had gone missing -- or Xanti that sat here, the father of this child.

"What do you have to tell me?" he said, his eyes resting almost solely on Esti. Of course, the healer had informed him of his daughter's condition, but he wanted to hear it from her lips, so that he could properly punish her.

Esti sat up, smoothing the hem of her tunic. She couldn't look at her father; she was too afraid. With one last glance back at Iñaki, she shifted out of his embrace and tried to meet Zeru's eyes squarely, with little success. "The healer tells me I'm pregnant, aita... I'm sorry." She shuddered involuntarily under the weight of his gaze, wondering if Hodei had mentioned that he had walked in to find them --

"You aren't sorry yet. Pray to Eguzki for forgiveness, and pray that he takes this child in the womb, before anyone else realizes what blasphemies you've committed. Iñaki. Why won't you say something for yourself? Are you the one to blame for this?"

The one to blame -- Esti's memory lit on the pieces, small and worn, of the night they'd spent together before the raid, and of the stolen moments they'd shared just hours ago. Could one of them be blamed for the child? It had taken them both, and Esti knew that Zeru was looking for someone to punish, unwilling to lay his hands on her knowing that she might carry the future of the tribe in her belly.

"Yes, Aita." Iñaki shifted free of Esti and stood up, though his legs were still shaky and weak from his fight with the infection of weeks ago. He met his father's gaze with his one remaining eye, and realized, with a sudden shock, that he was nearly as tall as the older man. His father had always seemed huge, as tall as a tree, but he wasn't even a handspan above Iñaki any longer.

"This is my fault, but more than that, it is the fault of Eguzki." His voice was suddenly deeper, sonorous. He felt the words weren't coming from him, but from somewhere else. "Search within yourself, Aita. Search your heart and heed Eguzki's words. You will find, I think, that this is His will. Esti and I have always loved each other, with the fire of Him in us. It is holy. He knew when He would take Xanti, and He tested us... Aita... Aita-emaite." He looked at his father as he had when he was a small boy, when he had, however briefly, truly loved him instead of feared him. His legs, trembling, were the only sign of fear and exhaustion. His voice, for once in his life, was steady; Iñaki didn't stammer.

"You know it's true," he whispered, and then he found he had to look away.

It took the warlord more than a minute to recover from the shock of his son's little speech. And even afterward, Zeru wasn't quite sure whether to hug him or throttle him. He had never heard his son speak like that to anyone, let alone the warlord of the tribe; and for the first time in his life, when Iñaki spoke to Zeru, he didn't stutter once. Yet what he had said was awful, impossible, nearly blasphemous. It was also cause for more suspicion -- but deep down, Zeru hardly believed that small, simpering Iñaki had really conspired to kill Xanti.

Iñaki was right -- he did know, somehow, that Eguzki's will had touched each of them. But in the end, he chose fury over acknowledgment. "You dare speak to me that way? You say this is holy -- how? You are not worthy. Eguzki chooses the strong. This is why he gave me Xanti as my first-born son, the holy one, before you." He glared at Iñaki, then looked to his daughter, still hunched over on the ground.

"Get up," he barked, shortly, "Iñaki tells me that the two of you are in love. Love? You stupid, whining children! You know nothing of love. Take your own advice -- search within yourselves. You, Esti; do you love him truly, or did you only love him because he was not the one chosen for you? You hated Xanti out of defiance for me. Do you love Iñaki for the same reasons? And Iñaki, is it Esti you love? Or did you love her because she was forbidden, or because she is the only woman in this tribe who will look at you twice?"

The warlord glared daggers at his children and watched them shift uncomfortably. He wanted to hit them, to hurt them, to make them feel pain as their failures had pained him. But Zeru looked at Iñaki, and found that he couldn't touch him. He felt pride in his second son, yes, but also a healthy fear that was usually reserved for a Warlord. And it unsettled him.

Zeru turned to Esti and lightning-quick seized her by the nape of her neck, pulling her skin so tight that the pulse in the large vein of her throat was visible. Just as soon as he had her in his grasp, he remembered that he couldn't hit her. She was weak and trembling, and as he looked into her eyes he remembered that she was his own daughter. But the mere weakness of the thought made him angry, and he snarled at her, gripping her roughly by the shoulder with his other hand. "You are no Warlord's wife. I am finished with you -- I will not teach you any longer. Become one yourself. And if Xanti returns, I will send you both away."

With a final shake, Zeru released her, taking a step back from his two children.

Esti stayed still on the ground, nursing the swell of pride and awe that rose in her when she heard Iñaki speak. She had heard him talk like this before, but only to her, and only in private. Never to the warlord. The sound of his voice was different, even; it sent shivers up her spine. It was as though she was watching him lengthen, stretch, change before her eyes. In one moment, he had gone from her anaia-emaite to warlord and back. And it made her wonder -- how could she become like that, worthy of that?

A storm seemed to build around her father, but it was an uncertain storm. Esti had seen enough of her father's righteous rages to know when he was faltering and when he was honestly furious. And for once, the warlord seemed to be faltering in the face of this wiser, stranger Iñaki.

She sat quietly as they had words, feeling very much a child, an observer, in this situation. It brought up an uncomfortable thought -- could the thing inside her hear them? Could it know what was happening outside it? If it lived inside her, shared space with her soul, did it share her thoughts? Could it see through her eyes and hear through her ears? Esti was frightened by it; she pushed the thoughts aside, and stood up mechanically when her father commanded her to.

"Aita, I did not hate Xanti. I never hated Xanti -- not out of defiance to you, not because he was chosen for me against my will, none of it. I loved Xanti, but I loved him as family and nothing more. I love Iñaki with all my heart, and I would swear it by the name of Eguzki." Zeru looked at her squarely, and Esti quailed. She managed to meet his gaze steadily, until he reached for her, and she unwittingly scurried backwards. But she was caught anyway, by the back of her neck, and she felt an uncomfortable tightness as he pulled at the skin of her throat. Esti could breathe easily, though the sound was slightly rougher; she could feel her pulse pushing against her skin.

Her whole body shook with fright. Although a moment ago the thought of the baby repulsed her, she was afraid now that Zeru would hit her and kill it. She wrapped one arm protectively around her belly and grasped his wrist with her free hand, eyes rolling in her head like a spooked horse. And just as suddenly, her father released her, almost threw her back from himself, and she stumbled.

"I love Iñaki," she repeated, rubbing at the bruised nape of her neck. "And I know that one day, I will come to love this child as well. Perhaps one day I will come to love you -- and know this. I will do what I must do to become Iña's wife. If you send us away, you're only helping us." She had said it, but it was without a strong conviction, and her voice shook audibly. Esti was finding it a little harder to ease into this new shape, where Iñaki seemed to be having no trouble. But it was true -- she would do whatever it took to become worthy of being his wife. Even if that included raising this child.

Iñaki caught Esti and held her against him as she trembled, his arms around her waist. He could feel the pulse fluttering through the vein in her stomach, and he wondered, with a twinge, if that could be his child. But he didn't want to think about that. If he did, he would have to face the fact that he resented it. He had wanted only Esti, and now another burden was being pressed upon him, sending him grudgingly into adulthood.

Zeru looked angry, but his face held a shadow of something else. Then it was gone, and Iñaki felt weak, and shaky, and like himself again.

"A-a-aita," he said. His stutter was back. "I love Esti... not for lack of other women..." That was true. But. But. Iñaki thought about it. Was it because it was forbidden? He had always loved Esti, true, but Esti was more than Esti. Had she been another symbol of something Xanti had that he didn't? Was that why he wanted her? Or part of the reason? Iñaki was deeply troubled. He tried to sort out the strands in his mind. Xanti didn't love her, that was for certain, but might he have, if Esti hadn't... and Iñaki had always liked it when women liked him, and Esti had always definitely liked him.

It was so confusing, and though he could feel love in his heart with Esti pressed against him, he knew that momentary feelings weren't always the truth. He knew it, though, in the way that he knew other people were sometimes more important than he was: he knew it, and ever bit of him rejected it.

"I l-l-l-love Esti," he repeated, his arms still around her, soothingly, drawing her against him. His voice grew stronger once again. "If you send us away you may doom the Zerui, Aita. You know how hard it is to know His will, even for a Warlord, Xanti once told me you said that to him..." His throat closed over, and he knew, moreover, it had been unwise to remind the Warlord of his favored son. "I assume we will marry at the Gathering, and, you know, it may be many, many winters before the Zerui change their name. It will be as Eguzki w-w-w-wills it." He knew he was holding Esti for his own comfort, too. Iñaki watched his father.

Zeru watched his two children interact without comment, but the sight of Iñaki holding Esti that way brought back a flash of memory, one he'd long since forgotten. Amaya... she had been sick with fever, she hadn't wanted him to go to another of his wives for the night. But she'd nearly fainted when she tried to make a meal for him, and he'd caught her just that way. If he recalled correctly, he had stayed with her that night. In fact, he believed that that was the night that had given them Xanti.

Both the children looked frightened, but for obviously different reasons. Esti, whether she had noticed it or not, frequently glanced at her belly as though at any moment some beast was going to tear her open from the inside out. And Iñaki -- well, it was crystal clear that Zeru had opened up a well of doubt in his second son.

For a moment, Zeru almost pitied them. They really were, as Hodei had put it, the most unfortunate of people. His ignorant daughter, barely past adulthood, was going to be a mother, and was obviously terrified. And Zeru felt a stab of guilt at knowing that he may have caused Iñaki doubt... so much that he might leave. But the warlord shook it off, because of course he wasn't going to let that happen. If this was Eguzki's will, then so be it; he opposed it, but what could a mere man say in the face of a God?

"Whether you love her or not," he said to Iñaki, "and whether it is Eguzki's will or not, you will be married at midsummer. In time we shall see what He has in store for us. I am not pleased, and do not think I have forgiven you. If Xanti returns," Zeru paused and turned his attention to Esti. "If Xanti returns, I will annul this marriage and you will become his wife. It is tradition. You may keep the child -- Iñaki will be sent away. If Xanti returns."

Zeru knew it was unlikely, but the wicked part of him had to leave them with a little more to fear. "Iñaki. If you allow the feelings of others to overtake your own, your leadership will be weak. If you believe something, believe it with your whole heart -- or did Xanti tell you that too?"

And, thoroughly unsettled by the fatherly advice that had managed to worm through his defenses, Zeru glared at his children. "We'll discuss this further later." With that, he was gone.

Esti felt herself being snatched up in Iñaki's arms and gripped his hands tightly where they rested on her belly. Her heartbeat was wild, and as it increased in pace, she began to feel a little queasy with the excitement of everything that had happened. More than anything, she just wanted her father to go so that she could talk with Hodei -- after all, if this was really happening then she was going to need to know what to do. And perhaps knowing what exactly it was would make her feel less sick over the matter.

Although Iñaki was defending his love for her, his voice held less conviction than before. And -- what was that about other women? Esti felt a white-hot spike of jealousy burn through her chest; she turned over her shoulder to give him a venomous look.

"I assume we will marry at the Gathering..." The Gathering. Esti had forgotten all about it. She tried to think of how far away it was, and couldn't come up with a solid number in her head. Was it two weeks, or a month, or more? Would she have started to show by then? Hodei had been able to tell with just a touch, and, as she placed her hand on the same spot he'd found, she felt it was tough and hard under the skin. Almost like a shell. Was it like a tiny bird, then? She had found one once, as a child, a baby bird that had fallen from its nest. Peeping and featherless, with huge bulging bird eyes and scaly eyelids, it had terrified her until Xanti had gotten their mother, who put it back in the tree.

Or was it perhaps like a baby turtle, pudgy and soft, but with a back that slowly hardened -- noiseless, slow? Neither option was very pleasant -- and then her father's voice cut in on her thoughts. "As Eguzki wills it," she said, a bland response that didn't betray her fury at the thought of Iñaki being sent away and leaving her with a child and a husband that she didn't want. But she was shocked at the kind words that Zeru left Iñaki with, and apparently so was the warlord; he made a quick exit.

"How long until the Gathering?" she asked, running one hand contemplatively over the flatness of her belly, finding the hard place below her navel again and again. How had she missed it? Half the things that Hodei had asked about had been signs of eating bad meat, but somehow... well, that was why he was a healer, she thought.

"What do you suppose it looks like? I mean -- well, I don't like not knowing what it is. Not that it's a girl or boy, I just mean, do you think it's born like a rabbit, blind and hairless, you know? Or more like a colt, with all its hair? I know it won't be able to run like a colt, but..."

And then she realized she was rambling, and stopped herself.

Iñaki met his father's gaze with his newly monocular one.

"Yes, Aita." There was a strange softness in Zeru. Iñaki wondered: was that all it took? That he had to be hard to see his father's softness? Was Zeru's rigid rigor simply the product of Iñaki's weakness?

But no--there, that cruel spark surfaced--and then, surprisingly, submerged. Zeru had spoken to him almost like he'd once spoken to Xanti. Iñaki didn't dispute the judgment against him. How could Xanti come back? He was almost certainly dead. But it was a shadow on the novelty of Zeru's--could he call it respect?

Oddly, it made him feel worse about his love for Esti. Like many young men, he had felt certain in his affections when they'd been proscribed, but now he questioned them. He could, of course, take other wives, and he would be encouraged to do so. That wasn't the problem. The problem was precisely his father's approval. Now it seemed as though he was using Esti for that. With what he'd said about Eguzki's will: could he be sure that was what it was?

But he dipped his head forward and inhaled the scent of Esti's skin, and he knew that for now very little was more certain than his love for her.

Esti's words surprised him. "Uh--what? What are you talking about?" She went on about rabbits and horses. "The Gathering--about one turn of the moon," he said finally. "But I don't know what you're talking about with the baby. I thought all babies looked more or less alike." Iñaki didn't like babies: they demanded too much attention, and anyway, they were women's work.

"I know I'm talking nonsense. It bothers me. Because I know it's not a child yet, otherwise it'd be much bigger, and there isn't much space right now... so what is it?" Just some horrible thing squeezed into her belly somewhere, between all the things that kept her alive. Every time she thought of it, it made her squirm and brought up a whole realm of new questions. How did it live in there, without air? Or was there air inside her, and even if there was, what did it eat? She shook her head to get rid of the barrage of questions.

"A moon -- do you think anyone will be able to tell? It hasn't been very long." Esti hoped not. If it were up to her, she'd never have to get any bigger because of the baby. She knew that that was how pregnancy worked, that your belly had to grow when the baby grew, to make room. Esti put her hands on her hips and realized how narrow they were -- she'd heard the women talk about childbearing hips, and then there were the mothers that the tribe had lost during hard births.

And sometimes the baby died, too. Or even if they both lived, sometimes the babies were sickly and fell ill with fevers, or the sweating sickness. It seemed to happen too often to the tribe, though Esti was sure that the Ekaini children were just as vulnerable, if not more so. After all, the Zerui were favored most by Eguzki.

She looked at Iñaki. "What will you think of me then? Once I get..." She made a general gesture with her hands, rounding them over her belly in an exaggerated shape. Esti didn't want to say fat, because her mother had told her when she was small that pregnant women weren't fat, they were heavy. Amaya had failed to explain what exactly that meant, however.

"...round."

"I don't know," Iñaki said uncomfortably, in answer to whether she would show or not in a month. He realized he had very little knowledge of what exactly happened to women when they had babies. Periodically his stepmothers and aunts and acquaintances would swell up, and after a few months there was a new Zerui, which he usually ignored for years, until it started to be a real person at about three or four. He did like three- and four-year olds, though. They were cute. He had to admit it. It wasn't so bad to think of having one of those, but the tiny, delicate, fragile stage worried him.

"Uh..." What would he think of her? "Well, you'll still be Esti," he said, a little uncomfortably. "I think... I think I'll be a little scared, though. To be honest. I don't really understand the whole thing. But it's temporary. So..." He kissed her on the cheek, trying to smooth over his stumbling answer. The truth was he had no idea. He felt like he was play-acting at being an adult. It still didn't feel real. Esti had only fourteen winters. It was hard to believe she was really pregnant, let alone imagine how he'd feel seeing her that way in a few months. He'd been telling the truth: the mystery of it scared him. He still wasn't able to put 'desirable' and 'mother' together in his head without twitching.

Esti tried, with some difficulty, to imagine herself that way. It was hard to do, because she'd never really thought about it; she had assumed that one day she'd have children, but that day had come a little earlier than she had expected and there'd been no time to think about it. Maya came to mind again, with her beautiful dark skin -- if Esti swelled up that big, she'd look less like a lovely Zerui tribeswoman and more like a fat and unfortunate child.

She shuddered, her hands stilling on the hardness that was a baby. But it didn't seem like it was hers, at least not yet. It had only been hours, and it was still just sort of a concept, as she'd thought, wedged into her body somewhere between her heart and her gut. For the first time in months, Esti wanted to talk to her mother. If there was a baby inside her, she wanted to know what was going to happen, how things would be. And most importantly, she needed to know how to get rid of the sick feeling that overtook her every time she thought about it.

"I'm a little scared, too. And I don't understand. But you'll still be Iñaki, and I'll be Esti, and we can do it. Right?" Esti didn't believe it, but she needed the reassurance that he did. The more she thought, the more she felt like a baby herself. And the less capable of taking care of one.

Suddenly Esti was very tired. She sank down on the floor, having barely noticed the kiss to her cheek, and put her head in her hands dejectedly. Maybe if she went to sleep and woke up, none of this would have happened -- at least she hoped.

Esti slid down out of his arms, and Iñaki realized she'd been partially holding him up, too. He'd been in bed for weeks--no great surprise. So he sat next to her quietly at watched her, his chin in his hands, his legs crossed. She mostly looked sad, or troubled, or scared. Well, he was all of those things, too.

He realized he felt more tenderness toward her when he saw her fear. It arose naturally. He hated to see her in pain. This feeling was more convincingly love than what he'd tried to make himself feel to bolster himself against Zeru's accusations. He did love her, but love was... not just a feeling unconnected to actions. If he loved her and if he was to continue loving her, he would have to care for her in the coming months, no matter what happened.

"Oh, Esti." He put a hand on her back, softly, soothingly. "We can do it." She needed him to say it. "Everything will be fine. I love you, so much."

Esti leaned into the comfort of his touch. Whether Iñaki's words were false or not, they gave her some hope. He'd been honest with her from the very start, and somehow even though she hadn't gotten a complete answer to her questions, she felt she could trust that more.

Her mind was working sluggishly, and as hard as she tried to come up with a coherent thanks, all she could manage was, "Iña, I love you too. More than anything." She'd been tired for weeks without knowing why. Though she didn't know much about pregnancy, many of the new mothers were cranky when they'd been with child, and she wondered dully if this was the reason.

"Do you think Hodei will mind if I nap here with you?" Iñaki was beginning to look sleepy as well, with his injury and all the excitement. One look at him, and Esti realized how silly her question had been -- after what the healer had already seen of their relationship, the two sleeping side-by-side was commonplace. And besides, they were to be married at the Gathering, in front of all the Zerui.

As the pair slipped back beneath the furs, Esti taking her place at her brother's side, she was finally able to relax. Thoughts of the baby and marriage and the tribe slipped from her foggy mind, and she cuddled into Iñaki as her eyes started to close.