Idol of Glass (25 page)

Ra obliged by peeling out of her black tights and sweater while stretched on top of Jak's body, and Ahr slipped off the bed and stood, methodically removing the shirt and long underwear of Jak's that he still wore over his male body, revealing the unabashed erection beneath. Ra was squirming against Jak, the touch of skin enough to rile her to frenzy, and she lifted her thighs over Jak with a dark, commanding look. “You begged me for this once. What will you do with it now?”

Jak rose to meet her body obediently, tasting at last of the sweetness that had been denied Jak until now. Ra rested on her knees and arched back, and Ahr moved behind her on the bed to brace her. Cupping her breasts, he bent over her, taking one into his mouth while she danced against Jak's touch.

“I want you,” Ahr said to Ra, holding her firmly.

“If anyone's to have you, it will be Jak.” Ra gasped the last word out, climaxing already, as Jak held on to her, hands pressed firmly into her behind and face buried in her, muffled moans of pleasure equaling Ra's.

When Ra relaxed, Jak released her reluctantly and drew her down, taking one of the breasts Jak had missed into a sticky mouth while Ahr leaned over her and took the other.

Jak watched him straddling both pairs of legs where he knelt to cradle Ra, his pennant desire more plain than the need in his eyes. Holding Ra tight, Jak exposed the dark blush between Ra's long limbs to him, eyes locked on his.

Ahr enveloped the indistinguishable unit of their bodies with his own, and Ra raised her head as he moved between her legs. “Wait
, lif,
” she protested. “Jak must have you.”

“I am having him.” Jak gave her a wicked grin. “I'm having you both.”

Jak's tongue penetrated her mouth while Ahr penetrated her from behind, and Ra moaned roughly, curving her arms behind her back to hold on to him. He wasn't gentle with her, driving hungrily against her body, but Ra didn't protest, her head thrown back beside his as he threw himself into the act without reserve. Jak nipped at the arch of her throat, and Ra, whimpering, began to quiver uncontrollably, thrusting her own hips against Jak's in time with Ahr's intensified motions. Jak, instead of either of them, cried out in the delirium of climax first, arching beneath their hot and slippery bodies. Ahr pressed forward and kissed Jak with a groan as he followed suit, his arms taut against the mattress while he jerked into the softly moaning Ra and shuddered down against them.

The three of them lay together, a single body spent, panting softly against one another until they slowly separated into a unit of cuddling arms and legs as the opiate of orgasm faded.

“You were rough with Ra,” Jak scolded Ahr, caressing one of Ra's breasts.

“I was, a bit. I suppose I meant to be.” He kissed Ra's shoulder apologetically.

“
Mene midtlif.
”
Ra shook her head solemnly. “You were gentler with me than I was with you.” She kissed him, and kissed Jak. “Shiva granted us this
vetma
for one night. Let's not waste any time on regret.”

“Granted you?” Jak searched the coal eyes that were no different than they'd been this morning in a more sculpted face. “She changed you?”

“She gave us the illusion of change. She held us up before the mirror of our symmetry.”

“I don't understand.”

“You place too much importance on gender and parts,” said Ra with a wink before gathering Jak in her arms. “Poor ordinary Jak. Tormented by the Meer.”

Ahr spooned against Jak from behind as Jak glanced over a shoulder at him. “Don't ask me. I woke up while you were still asleep, and found a cock between my legs.”

“As if that were a first,” said Jak, and he bit Jak's ear. “I suppose,” said Jak slyly, reaching down, “you have the infamous stamina of the Meer?”

He was unable to deny it. “
Midtlif,
” he murmured. “I don't want to hear another word about you not measuring up against the touch of a Meer. Ra and I are incomplete without you.”

Thirty-three: Singularity

Dawn rose with the typical dull Haethfalt winter gray. Scuttling out of bed and into his slippers, Rem took his robe from the back of the well-worn door. The mound was in good shape, but it was aging, and nowhere was it more apparent than in this first room where he and Peta had begun. Here Peta na Caetn ne Rem had brought forth his firstborn, Pim, who had been their pride. Here the three of them had shared the humble fruit of Rem's youthful husbandry, and the mound had increased from one room to two, and then with prosperity to three: a room for friends to gather and feasts to be prepared.

Here Pim had died, Mound RemPetaPim once more Mound RemPeta; a fall from a horse had snapped his spinal cord in two. Rem had set the horses loose after that and refused to own more.

Here also Peta had brought forth unexpected Geffn, a fine son who was a comfort to them in their waning years. And here Jak had played as a child, like a second son to them—even then, never true to her sex. Rem shook his head at the knowledge of the fool thing he and Peta had shamefully allowed. They'd paid for it. Everyone had. Fyn had asked Pim not to acknowledge his child. She would honor her betrothal to Kol. Rem had suspected that one of a violent streak, and he regretted now that he'd not insisted Fyn take refuge as a daughter to their moundhold.

Jak's relationship with Geffn had come as a complete and terrible surprise. They should have stopped it, but Peta's good heart was soft, and when hotheaded and determined Jak had challenged them with declarations of the intimacy already shared with Geffn, they'd been quietly resigned. It was a blood tie once removed, a questionable transgression, and they couldn't bear to hurt them with knowledge that was unnecessary. Unbeknownst to Geffn or Jak, Rem and Peta had allowed the marriage of their granddaughter to her uncle.

Rem cleared his throat as he prepared a morning pipe. No more unnatural acts would go on beneath his roof. The pair who'd displaced Keiren and Mell had thrashed and banged about their room at all hours, as though the place were a Mole Downs tavern—with a brothel included. Those creatures were leaving today, and now, if he had anything to say about it.

Peta was slowly rising out of bed. Her rheumatism hadn't been kind during this unpleasant weather. “A light in the sky,” she said as she put her arm around him and watched the tiny break in the curtain of snow at the window's top. “We've come to morning after all.”

He grunted against the comfortable habit of the pipe against his lips, then let it drop for a moment, the bowl in his hand. “And I'm tossing them all out. Gods or not, they're getting the boot. If they kill us all, at least we'll die as a moundhold.”

They went out to bring the mound to life, Peta to her kitchen and Rem to the gathering room of which he was humbly proud. Their adopted kin were rousing on the cold carpet. He frowned, unhappy with their sacrifice to that inhuman creature. He turned toward the corridor, determined not to waste a moment more on tolerance, and took a step toward the den that belonged to Keiren and Mell, but stopped short at the sudden vise grip against his arm. He hadn't noticed the visitor seated at the border of the room before MeerHraethe had risen swiftly from his seat and taken hold of him.

“What do you mean by this?” Rem protested, unable to resist the fiend.

“I don't like your intentions.” Hraethe's eyes darkened with warning.

“My intentions are to see you to the door.”

The Meer released his arm so abruptly that Rem nearly stumbled with the effort he'd been exerting against the grip. “I believe I can find it myself.”

Steadying himself against the finial of the post at the base of the stairs where it extended into the corridor, Rem cleared his throat. “Your welcome has been worn, and you'll go while the sky is clear.”

“As was our intention. But you'll not disturb my lady. Step away from the door.”

Before Rem had an opportunity to challenge this opposition, the door in question opened. Shiva stood before him, hair the deep red of opium poppies spilling over stark, white skin. Her imposing form was bare from top to bottom, her nakedness something to shame him instead of herself.

“Ungracious hosts to the end. You could have simply asked us to go.” She murmured something in the diabolical language of the Delta. Black threads began to weave about her legs, and her nudity was neatly consumed by the utilitarian garments in which she'd arrived, complete with a heavy woolen frock coat that hung to the floor. When the statuesque Meer stepped past him to Jak's closed door and opened it, Rem frowned with displeasure. Ra and Ahr lay curled together in Jak's bed—and Jak was tangled with them.

Jak's vagaries had played havoc with the moundhold since Geffn and Jak had married—this strangeness with refusing to identify with a gender; the rejection of Geffn, which despite secretly being a relief to both himself and Peta had caused misery in the moundhold; the period of drunkenness and fights, when Rem had feared Jak would follow in Pim's footsteps after all; the consequent indiscretion with Mell—but this time, Jak had gone too far.

As Rem moved toward the open door, a dark head lifted from the ball of arms and legs, and Rem dropped his pipe in surprise. Ra had worked some Meeric sorcery and was no longer a woman. This one too muttered words of incantation and rose from the bed prepared for travel in navy pants of wool and a narrower woolen navy coat that brushed his thighs, double-breasted, with clasps that were undoubtedly the gold they appeared to be.

Rem had seen enough. “Out!” He charged forward to drag Ra from the room, but was stopped by Hraethe's hand with a thud against his chest.

“You'll not disturb my liege either.” Hraethe pulled the door shut.

Jak scrambled from the bed, yanking on the nearest clothing, and leaned in to give Ahr a reassuring kiss as she began to extricate herself from the tangled sheets. “Don't worry. I'll talk to him.” Ra had taken the lilac scarf from the wardrobe and was tying it around his neck, and Jak pressed his arm on the way to the door. “Please. Just wait.”

In the corridor, Rem stood clutching his pipe, his face set like iron, as Jak stepped out. “Oldman, listen—”

“No, Jak. This time, you'll listen. “Rem jabbed the pipe in the air between them for emphasis. “You're family to us. But I can't tolerate the rest of them any longer. Nor can I tolerate your behavior. You've pushed us too far this time. They're all going, your friend Ahr included.”

Before Jak could respond, Ra stepped out of the room, buttoning the clasps on his coat.

“Wait a minute. No.” Jak held up a hand toward Ra as if to stop him. “No one is throwing anyone out.” Seeing Ahr already dressed, Jak put another hand up, palms out flat in both directions, distressed at the sudden abandonment ensuing.

The noise had drawn Geffn from his room, with Sevine peering through the crack of the door, while Keiren and Mell rose sleepily from their makeshift bed at the hearth, and Peta hovered at the arch of the kitchen. It was a complete moundhold gathering.

“Don't cross me, Jak,” Rem warned. “I'm liable to say something I don't want to.”

“What, Oldman?” Jak challenged him. “What have I done to you?”

“You draw this sort of oddity to you.” He folded his arms. “You're unnatural.”

“
Rem
.” Peta came forward, putting a cautioning hand on his arm, but Rem ignored her.

Jak tried to keep cool. “We've deliberated this argument to death. I have a right to my choices.”

“Your choices.” Rem made a dismissive gesture with the pipe. “Your choices all seem to lead to aberration. You bring these creatures here and foist them on us, unnatural beings.” He cast a look of mistrust toward Ra. “Your affections have always been unnatural.”

Peta's face went white. “Hush, Rem. We promised not to speak of it.”

“It's time to say something.” Rem frowned at Jak. “It's down to your father.”

The stone floor reeled. Jak took a horrified step back. Geffn had told them. He'd exposed Jak's shame before the entire moundhold. Destroyed that he would do this, Jak threw him a look of betrayal, but Geffn shook his head, his expression baffled.

“It's our fault,” said Rem. “We kept quiet. We let it go on.”

Jak's stomach twisted. “You what?”

Peta shook her head at him, but Rem cleared his throat. “We let you marry your uncle. And that was the start of it all.”

Geffn gaped at his father. “What in sooth are you talking about? Are you out of your mind?”

But a light had gone on in Jak's head. A beautiful, glorious light. “Pim?” Jak looked from Rem to Peta. “Pim and Fyn?” They didn't deny it, and Jak began to laugh, tears of shocked relief flowing amid the laughter. Rem scowled at the unexpected reaction. Jak tried to be serious, but it was no use. Kol was nothing to Jak, had never been. Jak shared no part of his despicable blood. Jak could have grabbed Rem by the hands and twirled him about in a dance.

Startling Rem into dropping his pipe from his mouth, Jak kissed him instead on the wizened cheek with arms thrown around him in a tight embrace. “I love you, Oldman. I'm sorry I married my uncle.” Jak burst out laughing once more at the look on Geffn's face behind him. “No, really, I am. But I love you all.”

Rem stepped back stiffly as Jak let go of him. “This is hardly amusing.”

“I know. I'm sorry. I can't explain. But you have no idea how happy I am to be your granddaughter.” Jak brushed at the tears and tried to look soberly at Geffn, but he'd finally been struck by the absurdity of their predicament, and he threw his arms around Jak with a strangled guffaw that started Jak up again.

“I fail to see what's so funny,” Rem insisted, making Geffn laugh harder, turning red in the face, unable to breathe in characteristic silent mirth.

“It's the past.” Peta squeezed her husband's arm. “Let it go, Rem. Things have been remedied.” She enveloped Jak in a motherly embrace, giving Jak a comforting pat against the sleep-tousled hair when she pulled away, still holding Jak's hand. “We should have told you, Jak. The truth is, we were ashamed of Pim. He never took responsibility for anything in his life. He was a drunk, and he killed himself trying to take out one of the horses when he was in his cups.”

Jak was amazed at the confession. Pim had always been held up as the son who could do no wrong, nearly deified. Geffn had complained to Jak his whole life of feeling he'd grown up in his dead brother's shadow.

Peta acknowledged the contradiction with a shrug. “He blamed us for not convincing Fyn to break it off with Kol, said Kol had stolen Fyn and you from him. Of course you don't remember. You were so small. Geffn was just a baby at the time.”

Rem grunted around his pipe. “Jak doesn't need to hear this old story.”

For once, Peta opposed him. “I think Jak would like to know.” Peta gave Jak's hand a squeeze. “Pim took after Kol and Fyn with a knife one day, and took you from their mound. Stole one of the horses and tried to run away with you to who-knows-where. I don't think he meant to hurt you. But when Kol found the two of you the next day, camped in the woods beyond the Downs, he said Pim attacked him and tried to kill him. When Pim couldn't get his way, he took off on that horse and got himself killed, and if it hadn't been for Kol, he'd have taken you with him.”

Jak was sober now. The dream of riding away with the white-robed Caeophes from the fairy tale—the mage who'd stolen the village children from their unkind parents—it hadn't been a dream at all. Pim had tried to protect Jak from Kol. He'd known somehow.
“Never let him see your sex.”
The words Jak had thought were a dream, the words of a mage—they were Pim's last words to Jak. It was ‘him', not ‘them', as Jak had remembered it. It wasn't the mystical wisdom of the seer speaking of sex as gender. Pim had been warning Jak about Kol.

Shiva had removed herself from this drama and mounted the stairs to the ground above, with Hraethe behind her—and Ra was following.

Jak let go of Peta and turned toward them. “Wait. Wait!”

Geffn put a hand on Jak's shoulder in reassurance. “It'll take an hour just to clear the snow.”

But Shiva proved him wrong, swinging the door open and admitting a flood of steaming water. It poured over their feet and down the stairs, and Rem cursed as it flowed across his carefully polished floor.

Ahr stepped up from behind and put her hand on Jak's shoulder. She was dressed for the elements as they were. She was leaving. She was one of them, and she was going, and Jak was being left behind.

But before Jak could say anything to stop her, she took Jak's hand and moved toward the stairs. “Come,
midtlif
. Time to go.” Jak gaped at her, and Ahr paused and took Jak's collar, turning it up. “Something warmer,” she mused. “Like mine.” Jak's rumpled pants and mismatched buttons transformed into a snug outfit of steel gray, covered by a warm black coat, complete with heavy boots over Jak's favorite woolen socks. “Say good-bye to them, Jak. You're not one of them anymore.”

“But I am,” Jak protested. “I'm not Meer.”

“No, you're not Meer. But you're not ordinary.” Ahr smiled, the deep blue eye vibrant in the light from the door. “You're ours.”

Jak's head was still shaking, but Geffn stepped in and enclosed Jak in his arms. “I love you, Marsh Willow. Be well.”

Jak made a feeble attempt to resist his hug. “But I'm not going.”

“Yes, you are.”

Mell and Keiren were next to hug Jak good-bye while Jak submitted, bemused. Even Sevine came forward and gave Jak a shy kiss of parting on the cheek before Ahr took Jak's gloved hand firmly in hers and headed up to the surface.

Jak paused at the top of the stairs, looking back at the mound that had offered family, warmth and comfort for as long as Jak could remember. “I'll see you again.”