Fic: In the Light of Two Moons
Oct. 17th, 2011 03:41 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
rivendellroseTitle: In the Light of Two Moons, pt 4
Previous parts: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3.
Authors:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
hearts_blood and rivendellrose
Rating: PG
Pairing: Delenn/Neroon
Word Count: 16280
Notes: Pre-series. Words/phrases in Minbari are inspired by the Jumpnow Minbari Lexicon, but we've played extremely fast and loose with some of them.
The second part of Part 4 will follow, because LJ insists I divide it in half in order to post. Alas.
There was no such thing as a gradual spring in the northern part of the continent, not really--one day the temperature outside would be deadly cold, and the next the snow would be visibly melting as the hours of daylight lengthened and the suns shone more warmly. Delenn rejoiced as always to see the snow and ice receding, but she was less frantically eager to get outside than she normally was. For her, the winter seemed to have flown by.
For Neroon, though, accustomed to physical activity outdoors and in all kinds of weather, she knew it had been an eternity. Even before the snow had completely disappeared and revealed the temple school's extensive parkland, he had climbed over the low garden walls to take long, slow tramps over through the fields and brush-woods, always returning very muddy and exhausted, but refreshed and calmer than she was used to seeing him. As the days passed and the ground dried, he spent more and more of his time outside, exploring the school grounds, clambering among the low rock formations that formed the farthest boundaries between the school and the city beyond, and running footraces with himself to build up all the muscle he had lost during the winter. Once the other students were allowed onto the grounds in their free time, some of the braver boys of his own age would challenge him to a race or a wrestling match, but Neroon would only agree if Master Branmer was available to act as referee. Her schoolmates grumbled that the Warrior slandered his challengers by not trusting them to play fair. Delenn knew better. Neroon had confided in her the true reason for his exile, and she knew that he wanted his clan-brother nearby because he did not trust himself.
When he did race or wrestle, he was always the winner. He never gloated, nor teased the loser as the spectators often did. He would merely offer them a Warrior's salute, turn, and walk away, tossing his heavy coat over one shoulder. As the days grew progressively warmer, it was more common to see him without the grey uniform coat, at least when he was outside, and more than once Delenn had to hide first angry words and then amused smirks, when she saw girls of her own age sneaking appreciative glances at the well-formed Star Rider boy in his simple undyed shirt.
Most of the students gladly abandoned the halls and libraries and dormitories in order to study in their favorite spots around the school buildings, and if lessons became a bit neglected in those first few days of glorious sunshine, the teachers knew from experience that studies would recover soon. They were as glad as their students to bring the books out in the sun for a little while.
Delenn did not mind studying outside, but only one sort of reading could truly do justice to the joy that came when the wind was warm through the grasses and the ground was dry. She put away her theology texts and took from her things an old, old book. Hiding in the folds of her outer robe, she went in search of Neroon.
She found him in his usual spot outside the library, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, watching the crowd of students. He looked completely foreboding and irritable, but Delenn had come to realize that it was only a facade; he liked to watch people. She approached him, and was rewarded with a smile.
"I thought..." Delenn hesitated. "My friend Mayan is a poet and a singer of poems, and she and I sometimes sit out on the grounds to read the old songs together." She paused, tense under the expressionless scrutiny of Neroon's dark eyes. "I thought perhaps you and I... I think you would like this." She held out the book to him.
"The songs of Heefa?" He looked incredulous.
Embarrassed, Delenn tried to explain. "They're very old stories, but--"
"I know what they are." A little smile played at his lips. "I didn't think you would, though. What is a quiet, proper little priestess doing reading songs of war and the old ways?"
"I am not so proper I cannot appreciate history. Mayan introduced me to them. She reads poems and songs from all through history, for her studies."
"Your poet friend, yes." He traced the tip of a gloved finger over the old carved bindings of the book. "Have you heard it, or only read the words?"
"Mostly read. Mayan sings me the parts she likes, sometimes, but we have to be careful not to be caught ignoring our true studies..."
He nodded, and handed the book back to her, then held out his hand. "You have some time free now?"
"Until evening prayers..."
"Then come with me. There's an old tree out on the grounds. I'll read to you." His lip curled upward. "I am perhaps not so fine a singer as your friend, but you don't seem to hate the sound of my voice."
"Not at all--"
"Delenn!" Mayan raced up to them, and looped her arm tightly in her friend's. "Where are you going?"
"Onto the grounds..." Delenn winced at the vehemence of her friend's grip.
"It's a fine day to be out," Mayan continued as if she hadn't spoken, glaring up at Neroon. "I'll come with you."
This was not at all the day Delenn had planned in her mind. When they reached the stout old tree Neroon had picked out for their goal, she settled herself on the ground only to have Mayan sit down close at her side. Neroon, alert to the undercurrents in the day's outing, sat at her other side, a very respectable distance away. Likewise, her friend insisted on claiming the book first, and while Delenn normally took great pleasure in Mayan's readings, with all the emotion her friend pulled into the rising and falling of her voice, this time she found herself resenting the intrusion. She had brought the book for something she and Neroon could appreciate together, and now... Delenn sighed.
After about an hour, Mayan admitted she needed a rest, and handed the book to Delenn, who read as confidently as she could, trying to make her soft voice sound like her friend's, while Mayan drank some of the tea she had brought in an insulated container. When Mayan held out her hand for the book again, though, Neroon held his out as well.
"We should each take our turn, so none of us tires our voice too much," Delenn said firmly. "Especially you, Mayan - you are to recite in temple this evening, remember?" She clambered to her feet to give the book to the young Warrior, and who could fault her, now that she was standing, if she sat down again close to his side? Mayan frowned, but the quirk of a smile and the proud warmth of the look she received from Neroon more than made up for her friend's irritation.
"In the heat of summer that year," Neroon read, continuing from where Delenn had left off, "when life was on the hillsides and the breezes blew gentle and warm, Valash came down from the mountains to a valley where the males had gathered. They gathered together in the growing warmth, and the stones moved with the sound of their thrumming."
Delenn blushed, and turned her head downward to pretend interest in the small plants growing at their feet. Some years before, when she and Mayan had first discovered the songs of Heefa, she had been utterly bemused by this part of the song. Now that she was older, she of course knew about the rhythmic rumble of males signaling readiness to mate, but it was all very different to think of while sitting a scant hands-breadth from a boy of whom she was desperately fond, listening to his smooth, rich voice describe these things.
"They gathered in the green," Neroon continued, apparently oblivious to her embarrassment or the glare that Mayan focused on him, "and waited for the women of the land to come to them. They gathered, and the women came, and listened to the rumbling of their desire. The women came, and Valash walked among them. The thrumming of the males filled the valley. The women walked over the grasses that trembled with the sound, and they looked on the males and judged them, and to all their eyes one was the best. His crest was sharp, his eyes bright, and the scales on his back smooth. All the women saw him, and agreed that he was the most pleasant to look on. Valash saw him, and said that he would be hers."
"We should read another section," Mayan interrupted.
"Why?" Delenn frowned at her friend. "You started the reading, and you chose the section. Why do you want to stop now?"
"Because--"
"Mayan! There you are!" All three young people started at the sound of an adult voice as Branmer, the guardian of the Star Temple, stepped into view from a copse of young trees. "I've been looking for you. Master Tannier has told me you wanted assistance applying for a period of study with the Ze'fann conservatory temple on the southern coast. It so happens I have a friend there - I thought perhaps we could speak to him, you and I, before prayers this evening."
Mayan looked clearly torn. "Thank you, Master, that would be very helpful, but--"
"Your friends will forgive you for abandoning them for a while, I think," Branmer assured her. "Won't you, Delenn?"
"Yes, Master. We will be just fine. Really," she added solemnly to her friend, "you needn't worry about us."
Unconvinced, Mayan stood, frozen, until Branmer gently took her arm. "Come, Mayan. We will speak to my friend in the south for you, and as for Delenn... I give you my word as a Star Rider she has nothing to fear from my clan-brother."
Mayan still seemed unsure, but she could hardly question the honesty and honor of one of the temple priests by refusing to accept his word like that without good cause. "I'll see you at evening prayer, Delenn," she said - it was an order, Delenn noticed, more than a farewell.
"I'll see you then," she agreed, and watched Mayan leave with Branmer.
"Your friend disapproves of me," Neroon said when they had passed out of sight.
"My friend thinks everything in life is like an old song," Delenn agreed, feeling tired. "She means well, but she has strange ideas sometimes."
Neroon nodded slowly. "Shall we continue?"
"If you want." Delenn felt heat rise on her face. She knew all too well why Mayan had suggested they skip to a new passage in the song - after a short battle with the women of the local clan, Valash claimed the best of the males, a man named Tulann, and following that was a section whose words had always made Mayan and Delenn giggle when they read them - the joining of Valash with her new husband, Tulann.
Neroon read the battle with some interest, Delenn noted - a piece of the writing that Mayan and Delenn had never quite skipped over, but had never paid much attention to when they read together. But it was not that part that he spoke with the greatest care.
"'When the last had yielded to her,'" he read, "'Valash walked up to the cluster of men, and the handsome clansman stood forth for her. "If you will have me," he said, "then I am yours, scarred stranger. My name is Tulann.""
"'Tulann and Valash went away together into the trees, and found a place in a green grove where none would bother them. They found a place where the ground was thick with sweet herbs, and the smell of them filled the air as Valash and Tulann laid down their cloaks. They found a place of quiet peace, and Tulann's thrumming filled the air, shaking the branches above them.'" He paused and made an exasperated noise. "And then there is a passage about Tulann, which I think we can skip."
"Why?"
"Because... because it is all about how beautiful he is."
"What if I approve of a passage about a beautiful man?" Delenn reached out and took the book from his hands, and read. She was grateful, now, that Mayan was gone - her voice was quiet and awkward enough without comparison to her friend's confident clarity, and her cheeks blazed with embarrassment, but it seemed important somehow to speak the words, anyway.
"'Most beautiful of men, Tulann, whose crest was like the mountain peaks and his eyes were grey like the morning. Most beautiful of men, Tulann, whose scales were smooth beneath Valash's fingers, like the petals of a flower. Most beautiful of men, Tulann, whose ren'helasae were blue as the sky at midday, and... hot to the touch. He laid Valash down on the grass, and...' um..." A soft, rhythmic sound, deep and penetrating, filled the air between them, and she stopped reading. For a moment she was unsure where it came from, and then an earlier passage came into her mind. 'Tulann's thrumming filled the air, shaking the branches above them.' Her fingers holding the book trembled, and she thought her face might glow with the heat of her blushing. All her newfound boldness evaporated, and she was suddenly left the same small, frightened acolyte she had been that first night in the Star Temple, weirdly terrified by the thought of the young Warrior at her side. Her heart raced, but she didn't want to run, she wanted... she...
The sound stopped, and Neroon, tense beside her, coughed awkwardly. "I... forgive me. I'm sorry, I--"
"It's all right..."
"It isn't. It was inappropriate, I..." He breathed a hiss of embarrassment and frustration. "I'm sorry."
"Don't be."
"What?"
"Don't be sorry." Delenn swallowed, but when she looked up at Neroon the look of surprise on his face somehow gave her courage. "I brought the book, and I asked you to read. If either of us is at fault... but I'm glad." Her eyes fluttered down again. "That you... I mean, I'm flattered that I... am appealing to you."
"Delenn..." He took the book gently from her hands, and read from it, a few lines down from where she had been, in a slow voice that wavered slightly as the words passed through him. "'I have seen the beauty of your movement, and my body longed to move in harmony with yours... The face I see, shadowed by leaves that move above us, is bright with beauty, with eyes that shine like the evening--'" He broke off, blushing again at the soft sound of his chest's thrumming as it moved the still summer air. "To me, you are more than appealing," he added softly.
***
As gratifying as it was for Master Branmer to take such an interest in her, when was more Delenn's friend than her own, and to go out of his way to arrange for her to speak with his friend at the coveted conservatory, when she had left his little office, she was more put out than ever. She went back tot he tree where Delenn had been sitting with the Star Rider boy, but they were gone. Out on the grounds somewhere, Mayan thought darkly, as she went back inside and decided, for no particular reason, to go down to the library. "Out on the grounds again," she fumed to Ashan, "alone together, and I wouldn't like to speculate as to what they are doing there."
"Walking about, I expect," said Ashan, carefully concealing a smile, "enjoying the weather."
Mayan huffed and threw herself into a chair.
"I have met the Star Rider. He has been in here on a number of occasions. He seems a decent sort--a bit brusque in his ways, but well-read in his subjects and very respectful."
"You can't mean you let him touch the books!" She was aghast. "Why, he--he might have damaged them!"
"Your concern is admirable, but I suggest it is misplaced." Ashan looked up from his task of minutely collating a worn brown folio. "He is as tender of my charges as though they were newborn infants, and as his hands are always gloved, I have no fears of him smudging the illuminations. Were I Head Archivist here, I would require all the students to wear gloves."
"They are only books, Ashan."
"They are past, present and future," he retorted calmly, marking his place with a slip of paper and closing the old book with his habitual care. "Now be frank, Mayan: what do you think they are doing?"
A thousand vague scenes flashed through Mayan's brain, muted and fuzzy and bringing a blush to her cheek without her quite understanding why... but honestly? "Reading," she had to admit. "We were all reading aloud before I left them."
"Reading," said Ashan, "is a singularly harmless pastime, in itself. Unless you three were reading something... improper?"
Mayan lowered her eyes. "Not exactly improper... We were reading aloud from The Songs of Heefa." She braced herself for the usual censure she and Delenn endured from the other teachers for their taste in literature, but all Ashan said was "Ahh." He rose and disappeared into the stacks, returning after a few minutes to lay a book before Mayan's bewildered face.
"I didn't think our library held a copy of this..."
"We do not. This is my personal copy. And very well-thumbed, I assure you."
"I brought my father's from home when I was ten years old. He was very angry when it was confiscated by Master Nafeel." She looked up and studied Ashan's plain, faintly amused face. "Most of the others think these tales are, well... inappropriate. Delenn and I used to always get in trouble for reading them during study. I'm surprised, that you read them. They are not nearly as--" Mayan searched frantically for polite descriptives. "--as contemplative as the poetry of the second century."
Ashan chuckled. "My father is also an archivist, so I practically grew up in his library. And I too used to get into trouble for reading The Songs of Heefa when I was meant to be studying... but I read them at home, so I usually got off with only a light scolding. My parents are a little over-fond of me."
Mayan felt a sudden warm surge of friendship for the tall, awkward librarian. "I am sure they have a reason to be."
He blushed and fumbled with his book. "W-where, um, where had you left off before Master Branmer came for you?"
"We had just reached the section in 'The Courtship of Valash and Tulann' where Tulann agrees to be Valash's mate."
"Ah. Well, I, er, I think we can skip that part..."
Ashan turned the worn pages carefully until he found a less inflammatory passage. "'Valash and Tulann took their swords and set off into the wilderness. They took their sharp swords and their warm cloaks and their water skins. They took their bows and their arrows and their slings. They took their weapons and their good blue beasts and set off into the wild.
"'Valash rode, and Tulann followed. Her beast knew her well, as the mother knows its child, and sped across the ground. It ran across the ground like wind in the summer, and the wind was in Valash's veins. She rode, and her mate followed. Tulann's mount was tall and sleek, as slender glass in summer, and pounded across the land. It thundered across the land like the thrum of an eager male, and the thrum was in Valash's blood. So Valash knew that her mate was a fine rider.'"
Mayan knew the words of the timeless poem nearly by heart, and had spoken them and heard them spoken countless times. But Ashan's voice took her by surprise. His stutter had vanished as though it had never existed, replaced by an instinctive rhythm for the wave-like cadence of the old song--rolling, rising, crashing, falling, lingering gently on the sweet details.
"'They came upon a down of enan'dun, great beasts of the north, whose coats were patched and mottled like old tents. Their summer coats were mottled and their flesh was fat, and Valash and Tulann were hungry. Valash aimed her bow and shot. The arrow sang through the air and wounded one of the frilled beasts. Its bellows and groans were as ice, cracking in the ocean, and the smell of its blood was in the air. The scent of blood was carried on the air, and Tulann was proud of his mate. The smell of their brother's blood maddened the down, and the beasts fled. Tulann rode after them, his crest blinding in the sunlight. His body moved with his mount, and their bodies shined in the sunlight. He aimed his bow and shot, and killed the beast with his arrow. He gave the arrow to Valash, in token of her first shot. He gave the meat and blood to Valash, that she might be strong and in time bear strong children. He gave the bones and skin to Valash, that she might build a shelter of them, and be warm and safe from other hunters. So Valash knew that her mate was a great hunter.'"
In her mind's eye, Mayan saw the scene as never before. She felt the kiss of the summer wind on her skin, and heard the twang of the arrow and the cries of the enan'dun, smelled the sharpness of fresh blood on the air. She saw the beauty of Tulann's body in the warm depths of Ashan's voice, and felt the sight and sound as strongly as a pair of fists chenched against her solar plexus.
"'Valash built a fire and cooked and ate of the beast's flesh. She gave back of the flesh and blood to her mate, that he would be strong and give her strong children. She made a shelter of the bones and skin, and shared it with Tulann, to keep him warm and safe from hunters and the chill of the short summer nights. Valash and Tulann held one another and slept in the shadow of the enan'dun carcase. They wrapped themselves in the white-brown fur and pressed close to one another and to their riding beasts. Valash rested her scarred cheek on Tulann's breast, and heard the strong beat of his heart, and slept. So Valash knew that she had chosen a good mate.'"
Ashan fell into one of his customary thoughtful silences, his head bowed over the text. Mayan blinked and suddenly she was back in the library. She felt strangely out of breath.
***
Spring's warmth settled into the earth, breaking the hard frost into water that woke and nourished the roots of plants and shrubs all around the temple gardens. And inside the temple walls, the same growing impulse settled in and warmed the blood and bones of the students. Which was why, on a fine day when the sun was bright and the winds heavy with the early smell of flowers from the gardens, Mayan and Delenn found themselves and their other female year-mates excused from their normal morning classes and ushered, instead, into Master Firell's classroom.
Firell's calm, slightly amused voice cut through the whispers and chatter as the students filed in. "Everyone sit, please. We have a great deal of material to go over, and I'm sure we'd all like to be finished quickly so we can enjoy the sunshine, hmm?" She smiled as the her charges sat down and quieted. "Good. Now. You will have noticed, I'm sure, that your male year-mates are not here. Some of you may have remembered previous sessions that were divided in this way and guessed the cause for this. Put simply, you are all in your eighteenth year of study in this temple, and will soon be leaving us to enter the service of Minbar as a whole. You will also soon be undergoing the second stage of your transition into physical adulthood. As such, this is the time for us to give you some instruction on what you may encounter in your adult lives."
Firell quickly reiterated the matters of basic physiology that she had already covered in previous discussions with the girls - the differences, external and internal, between male and female bodies, and the ways those bodies changed over time. "Over the next few years, the velvet that has provided blood and nutrition to your crests while they grew will begin to die off. It's normal for it to itch during this process." Unconsciously, Delenn reached up to scratch the soft, vascular covering on her own crest, and then lowered her hand, embarrassed, when she noticed that many of the other girls were doing the same. "Eventually," Firell continued, "it will fall off on its own. Don't be surprised if it takes a while, and don't be in a hurry to scrape it off before its time. As long as its there, your crest is getting food and oxygen from it, and that's necessary for the growth of a strong and healthy crest. You're stuck with what you get, for the most part, so you might as well give it as good a chance to be healthy as possible. And if you do scrape it off before it's ready," she added with a sigh, "you might cause a little bleeding. If that happens, go to the temple physicians and they will care for you."
Mayan nudged Delenn's side and made a face. "Like Helenn," she whispered - the name of a girl in the year above them, who, two years prior, had developed a nervous habit of scratching at her crest while studying, and had gone into something of a panic when she overdid it one day and bled right onto her history essay.
"Many of you have already experienced an attraction to another young person," Firell continued with a wry, smiling glance around the room. Immediately, irresistably, Delenn thought of Neroon, and felt herself blush. The only solace to her embarrassment was that she saw the same expression repeated around her. Even Mayan, to Delenn's surprise, looked a little bit perturbed... and not just because she had seen her friend's face, Delenn thought. She made a mental note to ask Mayan about that, later. "Once you are adults, some of you may wish to formalize your bond with this other person. For the record, I recommend caution. Marriage is intended as a bond that ties two people throughout this life, and will link you to them until the universe's end. Think carefully on this, meditate and pray for guidance, and take serious consideration before you make such a move."
One of the girls raised her hand. "Is that why you haven't married, Master Firell?"
Delenn winced, expecting their teacher to be insulted. Instead, Firell only nodded crisply. "Yes, it is. You have all your lives to make these decisions - do not rush them. And on that subject, another matter which I'm sure all of you will not rush into - sexual intercourse." Firell cast another long look over her students, her eyes amused even as her lips curved into a severe frown. "I am sure that all of you here think your teachers too foolish and staid to notice what goes on under our noses. I assure you, this is not the case. Whatever we say about the act of sex being best experienced as the culmination of a carefully-considered spiritual process that leads to the rituals of courtship, we all know that at least some of you will take all of that into consideration and then flat-out ignore us. I would prefer that not be the case. But even if it is, there are things you must know."
With patient care - as well as diagrams that made the girls all giggle uncomfortably - Firell explained the mechanics of the sexual act in calm, clinical detail. She described the thrumming produced by the male's lungs when he experienced arousal, a biological function intended to signal his willingness to mate with female before him, and that, if the female's feelings were appropriately engaged, produced a hormonal rejoinder in her that lubricated the vaginal walls and incited feelings of excitement and passion. Again, Delenn blushed brilliantly. While most of the girls around her looked, from the glances she shot out of the corner of her eyes, as if they could hardly imagine this feeling, Delenn remembered it all too vividly. Even the dry description Firell offered conjured memories in her mind - the heady smells of crushed grasses and herbs where she and Neroon had sat in the sun to read the old epic, and of leather and wool from his clothes, and the strange feeling of wanting to run, wanting to... do something, she hadn't known what, when she heard the rumbling rise up in his chest. This, then, was what her body had been urging her to.
The rest of Firell's explanations were laid over the mental image of Neroon in Delenn's mind. She pictured in him the smoothing and softening of the scales that guarded the spine in response to the hormones released by sexual awakening, and the heat of the cerulean patches that surrounded those scales, warmed by the rising of blood to the skin and the arousal of millions of nerve-endings in those bright areas, yearning to be touched. Quickened heartbeat, shallowed breath, dilated pupils. And the smooth, unfeatured mound between the legs of the male, with its nearly invisible slit from which the penile shaft had to be coaxed by a gentle hand before he could...
Delenn blushed so hard she thought her cheeks might actually catch fire.
She felt sure - absolutely certain - that the other girls around her would all be staring at her, aware of the thoughts in her mind and the fact that they had a very particular and, to them, highly unusual object. But when she glanced quickly around, no one was looking at her. Not even Mayan. Everyone, all the young women around her, were so caught up in their own feelings, their own concerns, that no one even considered casting a laughing eye on Delenn and her embarrassment. Relieved, Delenn returned her attention to the lecture.
"The other responses you must know are those of the third sex, the helasae'dar." This caused a quiet murmur to ripple through the assembled girls. While most if not quite all of them knew of the existence of the third sex, those born to it were kept apart from other children, safe in their own temples, studying with their own kind mysteries and knowledge that were largely unknown to the rest of the population. Delenn herself, having grown up in the big and bustling city of Yedor, had seen a few helasae'dar going about their business, and her father had responded to her childish questions about their different crests and the quietness of their ways by explaining that they were very special people who had an important duty to Minbar and its people, and thus kept themselves away from the rest of the population. She knew nothing else, and strained with curiosity to absorb all that Master Firell would tell.
"When you and your mate are ready to have children, you will go to one of their temples. There you will be instructed by one of the temple guardians - an older helas'dar who has passed sexual receptivity - and helped to put on ceremonial robes that never leave the grounds of that temple, and that are blessed for that purpose. You will return then to the main hall of the temple, and pray in the company of your mate for a third to come to you and assist with the creation of new life. When one does, you must be very polite and quiet. The helasae'dar are not used to life outside the temple, and the peace and serenity of that space and its inhabitants are to be respected with great care. The helas'dar will lead you to a private room, where he will join with you, and then leave you in seclusion so that your mate may do the likewise. There are some physiological differences between a male and a helas'dar, but you don't need to concern yourself with them apart from knowing that their joining with you directly prior to a male brings about physiological changes in a female's body that are necessary to produce a child."
"The other thing that it is necessary to know about the helasae'dar is that they are different from males, and from females." Firell looked very solemnly at her charges. "You must not touch them in any way that they do not specifically and directly invite or begin - it may make them very uncomfortable. You must not expect emotional involvement from them. If conception is successful, the helas'dar will come to you and help you through pregnancy and birth, and then return to his temple shortly after the naming ceremony and welcoming of the child. His time with you is a solemn duty to the future of Minbar, not a personal attachment, and you must remember that and honor him for it. And you should know that if the child you bear is a third as well, the helas'dar will take it away with him to be raised."
One of the girls raised her hand tentatively. "But... shouldn't the child stay with its parents, Master? No matter its gender?"
Firell shook her head. "If the child is helas'dar, Kadroni, his parents are the helasae'dar in the temple where he will live. It isn't right for male and female to try to raise one of the third - they would not know what to teach it or how to raise it to its duty, and it would be forever uncomfortable and disturbed by the world outside the temple."
Kadroni nodded solemnly, though her eyes looked a bit scared, and Delenn wondered what it was that had caused the other girl to think of such a question.
"You all have many years until the details of the ritual of conception should be of concern to you but that is the basic information you will need," Firell assured them. "As for the rest, what I will say is that although it all sounds very distant and strange at the moment, you will find it much less so if you follow the proper course of rituals when the time comes. Ritual and ceremony lead us from one step to the next in a comfortable, controlled manner, and give us a frame in which to understand each step along the way. As worried as you and your lover may be about pleasing one another, you will be less concerned if you know them well and are closely familiar with their mind and soul before you begin, and if you take care to separately examine and explore all the many varieties and areas of pleasure that are in you both during the shan'fal. If you are patient and careful, and willing to speak openly with your partner about what you feel and think, you will have less trouble, and be happier for it." She folded her hands carefully. "Now. Questions?"
A long silence fell between the girls. When one girl finally raised her hand, it was with a shy and worried expression. "What about, Master, if our heart... if we are drawn to another girl?" With a sudden realization, Delenn noticed that the girl next to her, one who she had always thought the closest of friends, as she was to Mayan, blushed brilliantly, but held the first girl's hand with a quiet determination.
Firell smiled. "That is nothing to worry about, Vadenn. Some females' hearts are called together, as are some males'. The only differences are that you will be more easily aware of what each other's bodies desire, because your own is structured similarly, and that your own hearts or the desires of your families may call on one or the other of you to choose a male friend with whom you can have a child. Be certain if you do that you have a conversation before, including the male as well as your families, as to where and with whom the child should best be raised. The male will probably want to be involved at least a little in his child's life, so be sure you choose one you like and trust. Beyond that, my advice is all the same. Anyone else?"
Another girl raised her hand. "When... when a male is..." She flushed and looked down at her hands, but managed at least to force out the words, "Does it hurt?"
Firell's smile was mild and gentle. "Not if you're both careful. Penetration should not be uncomfortable - the female body lubricates itself, and the lead-up to intercourse should ensure that process is well underway by the time you get to that point. Take your time, be patient, don't be afraid, and if it does hurt, talk to a physician. It does feel strange, but if you and your partner take your time, you'll get used to that, and get past it to thinking about other things, fairly quickly."
"She said it like she knew," Mayan said later as she and Delenn walked out on the grounds before lunch.
"And?"
"Well, she's not married, that's all."
Delenn frowned at her friend. "Everyone knows it's not strictly necessary. Maybe there was someone, at some point. An understanding, and then..."
"He died? Or left her?" Mayan considered this, clearly weighing the dramatic possibilities for a poem. "Maybe. Still, it seemed like a strange thing for her to admit to."
"You're not really disapproving of her for that, are you?"
"Of course not. It just... surprises me, I guess. I can't see any of our other teachers saying something like that accidentally." Mayan scrunched up her face in sudden thought. "...And I think I prefer it that way, now that I think of it. If Master Midiri does any of that sort of thing, I'd rather not know about it. And I'd rather not think about it, too."
"So it wasn't her you were thinking of," Delenn teased.
"No!"
"Well, then who? I wasn't aware you had anybody in particular, but you certainly looked as if you were thinking of someone..." Just as the words came out of her mouth it occurred to Delenn that she probably didn't really want Mayan thinking in that direction, for fear her friend would turn the question around on her.
Fortunately, Mayan appeared too confused by the workings of her own mind to consider Delenn's. "I don't, you know that. But... it was strange. As she was talking about... that... my mind just seemed to sort of... leap. To Ashan."
"Who?"
"Ashan." But Mayan neither looked nor spoke like a girl in love. She looked... perplexed, more than anything else. "My poetry tutor."
"Oh. I didn't know... You haven't said much about him."
Mayan shook her head. "I haven't thought much about him until very recently. I mean, he's very kind, and helpful, and very knowledgeable. And he actually has a lovely voice, when he can stop himself stuttering all the time. He knows everything about history and poetry, and there's a sort of sadness in his eyes sometimes that... But it's still strange." She shook her head. "I just never thought of him that way before. And I'm not entirely sure I like that I did, now."
"Why not?"
"Because he's my tutor? Because he has a body like a tree in the middle of winter, all stick-out-y points and angles? And did I mention that he stutters?"
Delenn smiled. "My father looks a little like a tree in winter. He's always been thin, he can't help it. But I've seen a few pictures of him as a young man, and he did fill out a bit."
"Well, maybe he would be right for you, then," Mayan grumbled.
"But you're the one who thought of him," Delenn pointed out quickly.
"I know. I just don't know why."
"Maybe because you like him."
A blush crept over Mayan's cheeks again. "He... he read a bit of the Song of Heefa to me the other day. After I talked with Branmer about the conservatory, I went to the library, and we were talking about..." She bit her lip. "About what I'd been doing earlier in the day."
Delenn glanced away, down at her hands. "You mean you were talking about going out with Neroon and I onto the grounds."
"Well, yes, but only because--"
"Branmer was right, Mayan. Neroon doesn't mean me any harm. I know it."
"I want to believe you." Mayan took her hand, pressing it to her own heart. "I do, truly. But... you've only known him a few months. And he's a Warrior. They do things differently. You just can't be sure of what he's thinking about all of this."
As if the sound of his name has summoned him from nothing, Neroon appeared at the end of the corridor, wearing an expression of utter consternation. He hardly seemed to see where he was going, but as he approached he suddenly noticed them. Delenn flushed crimson, to her annoyance, but to her surprise so did Neroon. Mayan narrowed her eyes at the Warrior and tightened her grip on Delenn's hand.
Neroon tore his gaze away and focused on a stone sconce about a foot above the girls' heads. "Master Branmer sent me to find you. Shaimir Ashan came to the Star Temple. He was concerned that Shaimira Mayan had missed her tutoring session. I can only assume that he was not aware of today's..." The boy coughed into his glove. "Today's lesson."
It was Mayan's turn for a red face. "I, um..." Torn as she was between the safety of her friend and her obedience to her teacher, her natural curiosity over the feelings she was experiencing won out over her confusion. "I think I should go to Ashan and explain my absence. Delenn, you--?"
"I will be fine, Mayan," said Delenn, as firmly as she could manage. She watched Mayan hurry away, and a smile tugged at her lips. "I think our resident romantic may be falling in love without realizing it."
"At least now she'll know what to do about it, if she is." Neroon's embarrassed color did not fade; if anything, it grew more pronounced.
"Yes," said Delenn, looking down at the books clutched in her hands. "It was... a very enlightening class. Who was the male instructor?"
"I believe it was Master Nafeel. I was not present."
Delenn blinked. "Why ever not?"
"Because I didn't need to repeat that lesson."
"You mean you already...? Oh..."
"Some years ago, yes."
"Oh." A memory, a very recent and warm memory, tugged at her. "Then... that was what you meant, that afternoon under the tree, when you said you..." Her heart began to race. "You found me more than appealing." Neroon nodded. "Now I know what you meant."
"Yes, now you know," said the Warrior boy in a rather strangled voice. "Where I've been making advances to a girl who had no idea what I was talking about! I--Delenn, my behavior has been grossly inappropriate." He stood very straight, his cheeks still burning, his black eyes still fixed on the wall sconce. "If you wish I will withdraw my attentions and leave you in peace."
Her surprise was replaced by a considering frame of mind. "It bothers you that much, that I was ignorant of your desires?"
"Yes! If I had known... well, I would have kept my mouth shut until--"
"Until today." Delenn took two steps forward, reached up and touched Neroon's face. "I do not wish you to withdraw your attentions." A tiny smile, that shocked her with its coyness, curled the ends of her lips. "How could I wish such a thing, now that I know what I have to look forward to in the future?"
A small sound, reluctant but definite, rumbled up from Neroon's chest, sending delicious shivers through Delenn's blood, and his dark, dark eyes were warm and soft.
He leaned forward and kissed her, slowly at first, but with increasing warmth and urgency. Delenn closed her eyes, molding her body against his as he deepened the kiss...
"Ahem."
They broke apart at once, coloring up with embarrassment. Master Branmer glared at them with subdued amusement, and a good deal of annoyance. "Neroon was so aghast at his breach of protocol that he is late for supper. I came to make sure he hadn't found a sword to fall on in disgrace. I'm glad to see I was mistaken." The viridian eyes glittered, and Delenn and Neroon bowed their heads. "A little more decorum in future, please, my children."
"Yes, Master," they mumbled in unison. Delenn had blushed so many times that day, she wondered if her face would ever return to its normal color. She snuck a glance at Neroon, worried that he might feel even more shame at being scolded by his foster-parent, but instead he looked strangely pleased.
"Hmph. Well, since Delenn is already here--and I suspect Mayan will be some time in explaining her absence to her tutor--she may as well come and eat with us." He turned back towards the Star Temple, leaving the two students to hurry and catch up.
"I don't think I've ever seen Master Branmer cross before," Delenn ventured to whisper
Neroon grinned. "He isn't cross. It is his job to disapprove of egregious displays of public affection among his students. Once we get to the Annex, he'll be himself again."
"Everyone is acting unlike themselves today! Mayan is all out of sorts, Master Branmer is pretending to be cross, and Master Firell was saying all kinds of strange things."
"...During the lesson?"
"In a way... when she was answering questions, it sounded very much like she was speaking out of, well, personal experience!" Neroon's face suddenly went blank. "It is strange," she continued, misinterpreting his silence as disapproval, "for I have never heard of her being married or betrothed, or even that she had someone in her life, but the way she spoke, as though she were trying to reassure us through her own knowledge..." She frowned, not seeing Neroon's pained expression, and then shrugged. "Whoever he is, she certainly seems pleased with him."
Neroon coughed loudly; Delenn stared at him. His black eyes flickered to the tall man walking in front of them, and then Delenn managed to barely see the slow red flush staining Branmer's cheeks.
She stopped dead in her tracks, just over the threshold of the temple. Neroon halted as well, to let Branmer escape into the Annex and regain his composure. "Sorry," he said with an uneasy grin. "But I wasn't sure how to stop you."
Delenn let her books fall to the floor and buried her face in her hands. Every time she thought this day could not possibly get more embarrassing, the universe stepped up to prove her wrong. "You should have picked me up and tossed me out the nearest window," she muttered, her voice muffled. "Did you know?"
"Not really. I suspected something--I have done for years."
"Why? You'd never met Firell before this year."
"No, but Branmer used to talk about her often in his letters. Only daily happenings, things of that sort. And then when I turned up here, he never mentioned her. It wasn't difficult to guess."
"He is never going to speak to me again." And what Master Firell might say... Delenn was suddenly horrified to attend classes with her tomorrow.
Carefully hiding his smile, Neroon put a comforting arm about her shoulders and drew her against his chest. "He has nothing to reproach you for. He knows you didn't mean to say anything improper."
"But... why are they hiding? Why do they not simply marry and have done with it? Then there would be no need for secrecy."
Neroon was silent for a moment. "Knowing Branmer... he's probably content with what he has already." He kissed her cheek softly. "Now. Come in and have something to eat. He will let it pass if you will."
Delenn nodded, but waited until the heat had faded from her face before she dared enter the Annex.
***
Mayan arrived at the library to find Ashan seated at a table near the front, far away from his usual retreats deep in the archives. He looked strangely worried. The strange thing was not that Ashan looked worried - he usually seemed to be worried about something, as if a furrowed brow and air of hesitation were simply part of his nature - but, Mayan realized, the way he was dealing with it. Typically when he worried, Ashan made himself busy with something. He would be up and about, tidying shelves or rearranging obscure bits of paperwork, or making notes in a slightly ratty old notebook that he seemed to carry everywhere. Instead, he was still. He slumped in his chair like a root over a stone, and one long arm draped onto the table. His head hung as if his neck was too weak, suddenly, to hold it up.
“Ashan?”
He looked up. “Ah... Mayan. Master Branmer said you, ah...” Ashan blushed. “He said you had a class today.”
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I should have thought to send a message when we were told this morning.”
“No, no. No... no trouble.” Ashan winced at his repetition. “No trouble at all. These things happen.”
“I really am sorry, though. If I’d known in advance--”
“I’m sure you would have notified me, Mayan. Temple administrations do like to spring... these, um, sorts of instructions, on students with minimal warning. It allows less time for speculation and gossip. At least, I’m told that was the logic when I was at temple.”
Mayan regarded him closely. “You make it sound as if that was centuries ago. You can’t be more than a decade older than me... and I think it’s much less. How long have you been out of temple?”
Ashan coughed awkwardly and looked away. “Two years.” His cheeks colored a little as he said it, and his hands... Mayan wasn’t even quite sure what he’d done, precisely - some sort of complicated fidgeting gesture with the pen he’d been holding, as if he was writing something in the air with it. But she felt suddenly enthralled by his hands. Specifically his fingers, which were long and thin, like everything about him, but blunt-tipped and faintly callused under the ink-stains. They were oddly elegant hands, and something about the shape of his wrist bones jutting weirdly out of them into the flat plane of his forearm... What a strange thing to notice, she thought. What a strange thing to focus on. But it all somehow brought back the sensation she’d had earlier, when Master Firell had been talking and all of a sudden, seemingly out of nowhere, she’d thought of Ashan. Pictured him, as Master Firell described... things.
Mayan shook herself mentally, and forced her eyes up to Ashan’s face. He looked away, at his pen, and she thought she saw a hint of a flush on his cheeks. “So you’re three and a half years older than me.”
“Er. Yes. Roughly.” Definitely flushing. “Possibly four.”
“That’s not much.”
“Not... not really, but it can... feel like quite a bit, at times.”
“But it isn’t,” Mayan insisted. “Not really.”
“Well, no, not in terms of the, er, complete life cycle, or in an historical sense, but--”
If she’d been asked to explain herself, Mayan could never have really said why she did what she did then. It was curiosity, mostly. Honest, perhaps even slightly idle, curiosity. So much had been said that morning, and Delenn had worn a strangely familiar, recognizing look through some of it, and Mayan supposed later that she must have felt just slightly jealous of her friend. She’d wondered about so many of the things that were said, and more about the things she’d thought and felt, and here was a chance to explore those things more. Mayan leaned across the table and kissed Ashan on the lips. They were the one part of him, it seemed, that wasn’t at all dusty or inky, but pleasantly soft and warm.
She had just enough time to think that she quite liked this new experience before those same long fingers were holding onto her shoulders, pushing her gently but firmly away.
“Mayan... stop, please. Stop. We cannot do this.” Ashan’s expression was calm and regretful, almost sad, and there was a distance in his light brown eyes that she’d never seen before.
Something twisted in Mayan’s stomach. “What’s wrong? Didn’t you like--”
“Mayan.” Ashan held up his hand for silence. “You are my student, and I am your tutor, and you... you are still very young. This... isn’t right.”
“But I just wanted...” She trailed off and frowned, then pulled herself together and bowed to the older boy. “I’m sorry. Please forgive my presumption, Tutor Ashan.”
The formality of the apology seemed to recall Ashan to himself somewhat. “There’s no need for all that. You didn’t mean anything by it. You were just curious, and that’s entirely understandable at your age. I, er... would like you to feel safe and comfortable with me, Mayan. But... there must be limits.”
Mayan bowed her head. “Yes, Ashan.”
“Good. Er. Now. Let’s see if we can’t get through a bit of Bhurli’s work before you have to go to supper, shall we?”
***
Their lesson was short, but Mayan was quick to assure Ashan that she would have more time the next afternoon to make up for it. What made him less happy was noticing how quiet and distant his normally enthusiastic student was for the rest of their session.
It was necessary, Ashan told himself. He had done the right thing by stopping her, and the right thing by being a little stern with her, much as it hurt him. She had meant nothing by the kiss, only a young girl’s enthusiasm and curiosity to explore a new idea that she had just heard about. He should have felt pleased that she trusted him, regarded him as harmless and a safe outlet for her exploration... and he should have felt even more pleased at how dutifully and apologetically she had accepted his insistence that it not happen again.
Now if only his own mind would accept that moral lesson as well.
In truth, he had allowed his mind to go off-track before that day. He had known Mayan was young, but he had been so drawn to her quick wit and intelligence, her sweet voice and the lively beauty of the verse drafts she had read to him with earnest excitement over her own budding skill, that he had allowed himself to forget her age. There were, after all, only a few years between them. But when Branmer told him that his lovely student was away receiving the lectures that went with second puberty, the significance of those years had crashed down upon him again with the heavy shame of centuries. Clever and talented and beautiful as she was, Mayan was still very young, with a child’s understanding of the world. It was wrong for him, an adult even though still a student, and a tutor even though only a few years older than her, to regard her with anything but professional care.
Of course, barely had he inured himself to that idea before she kissed him. And, weak and stupid with thwarted affection, he had allowed it.
It must not happen again.
***
On the other side of the temple grounds, Avaier breezed into the master's office. "You wanted to see me, av'sala?"
Master Midiri laid down her stylus and smiled benevolently at the young male. He was not her grandson in truth, but everyone in their small clan now referred to her as 'grandmother,' even those who were nearly her age, and Avaier was the youngest of them all. "Sit down, child."
The tall, husky boy took the chair she indicated, and crossed his arms. There was something distinctly haughty in his bearing and manner, as if he was master here instead of his clan-mother, and had any other student acted so in front of Midiri, the chastisement would have been swift. But she looked upon Avaier's pride as no more than was his due. "There is something of great importance that I must speak of with you."
He looked vaguely worried. "Is this about my poetry project? Because I must tell you, grandmother, that tutor--"
"No, no. Shaimir Ashan's reports on your progress have been quite favorable."
"Ah." Avaier sat back with a self-satisfied little smile. "Of course. It's a simple enough subject, for one who understands."
"Bright boy," said Midiri proudly. "No, I wanted to speak to you of your future after you leave us--your personal future." Avaier began to look uncomfortable again. "As the last son of our clan, you have a very important duty ahead of you."
"Yes, I know..."
"Now, obviously you're too young for such a responsibility now," said Midiri, in what was meant to be a soothing voice, as the boy blushed. After all, he had only just reached final puberty and learned what awaited him once he found a mate. "But it is always prudent to think ahead."
"Think ahead...?"
"You have always been exceptionally popular among your female year-mates. Many of them are from very good families and populous clans. You could do far worse than choosing a wife from among them."
Avaier shrugged and looked bored. "What would be the point? It will be years until I am able to marry."
"To marry," said Midiri, quite deliberately, "yes. But there are other things a handsome boy may do with the female of his choosing, while they are waiting to marry. Such intimacies," she continued, now that she had his full attention, "bind the hearts, as well as serving as one of the greatest pleasures of the universe."
Her clan-child seemed slightly stunned, but he was listening closely. "There is one female, that I've long been partial to. Delenn ra'Mir."
Midiri nodded. "An excellent choice. A very good family, quiet, docile... and very pretty."
"But she won't be bothered with me!" he groused. "She spends all of her time with that Star Rider brat."
"If Delenn is who you want, then you shall have her."
Avaier frowned. "How, exactly?"
"That is your business, child. She is quite timid, but I think she can be stubborn. She may require more vigorous courting efforts." Midiri smiled fondly at Avaier. "No matter, whatever methods you choose will be acceptable. Press your suit, av'ierma. I will see to the Star Rider, somehow."
(Continued in Part 4.5)
Previous parts: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3.
Authors:
hearts_blood and rivendellroseRating: PG
Pairing: Delenn/Neroon
Word Count: 16280
Notes: Pre-series. Words/phrases in Minbari are inspired by the Jumpnow Minbari Lexicon, but we've played extremely fast and loose with some of them.
The second part of Part 4 will follow, because LJ insists I divide it in half in order to post. Alas.
There was no such thing as a gradual spring in the northern part of the continent, not really--one day the temperature outside would be deadly cold, and the next the snow would be visibly melting as the hours of daylight lengthened and the suns shone more warmly. Delenn rejoiced as always to see the snow and ice receding, but she was less frantically eager to get outside than she normally was. For her, the winter seemed to have flown by.
For Neroon, though, accustomed to physical activity outdoors and in all kinds of weather, she knew it had been an eternity. Even before the snow had completely disappeared and revealed the temple school's extensive parkland, he had climbed over the low garden walls to take long, slow tramps over through the fields and brush-woods, always returning very muddy and exhausted, but refreshed and calmer than she was used to seeing him. As the days passed and the ground dried, he spent more and more of his time outside, exploring the school grounds, clambering among the low rock formations that formed the farthest boundaries between the school and the city beyond, and running footraces with himself to build up all the muscle he had lost during the winter. Once the other students were allowed onto the grounds in their free time, some of the braver boys of his own age would challenge him to a race or a wrestling match, but Neroon would only agree if Master Branmer was available to act as referee. Her schoolmates grumbled that the Warrior slandered his challengers by not trusting them to play fair. Delenn knew better. Neroon had confided in her the true reason for his exile, and she knew that he wanted his clan-brother nearby because he did not trust himself.
When he did race or wrestle, he was always the winner. He never gloated, nor teased the loser as the spectators often did. He would merely offer them a Warrior's salute, turn, and walk away, tossing his heavy coat over one shoulder. As the days grew progressively warmer, it was more common to see him without the grey uniform coat, at least when he was outside, and more than once Delenn had to hide first angry words and then amused smirks, when she saw girls of her own age sneaking appreciative glances at the well-formed Star Rider boy in his simple undyed shirt.
Most of the students gladly abandoned the halls and libraries and dormitories in order to study in their favorite spots around the school buildings, and if lessons became a bit neglected in those first few days of glorious sunshine, the teachers knew from experience that studies would recover soon. They were as glad as their students to bring the books out in the sun for a little while.
Delenn did not mind studying outside, but only one sort of reading could truly do justice to the joy that came when the wind was warm through the grasses and the ground was dry. She put away her theology texts and took from her things an old, old book. Hiding in the folds of her outer robe, she went in search of Neroon.
She found him in his usual spot outside the library, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, watching the crowd of students. He looked completely foreboding and irritable, but Delenn had come to realize that it was only a facade; he liked to watch people. She approached him, and was rewarded with a smile.
"I thought..." Delenn hesitated. "My friend Mayan is a poet and a singer of poems, and she and I sometimes sit out on the grounds to read the old songs together." She paused, tense under the expressionless scrutiny of Neroon's dark eyes. "I thought perhaps you and I... I think you would like this." She held out the book to him.
"The songs of Heefa?" He looked incredulous.
Embarrassed, Delenn tried to explain. "They're very old stories, but--"
"I know what they are." A little smile played at his lips. "I didn't think you would, though. What is a quiet, proper little priestess doing reading songs of war and the old ways?"
"I am not so proper I cannot appreciate history. Mayan introduced me to them. She reads poems and songs from all through history, for her studies."
"Your poet friend, yes." He traced the tip of a gloved finger over the old carved bindings of the book. "Have you heard it, or only read the words?"
"Mostly read. Mayan sings me the parts she likes, sometimes, but we have to be careful not to be caught ignoring our true studies..."
He nodded, and handed the book back to her, then held out his hand. "You have some time free now?"
"Until evening prayers..."
"Then come with me. There's an old tree out on the grounds. I'll read to you." His lip curled upward. "I am perhaps not so fine a singer as your friend, but you don't seem to hate the sound of my voice."
"Not at all--"
"Delenn!" Mayan raced up to them, and looped her arm tightly in her friend's. "Where are you going?"
"Onto the grounds..." Delenn winced at the vehemence of her friend's grip.
"It's a fine day to be out," Mayan continued as if she hadn't spoken, glaring up at Neroon. "I'll come with you."
This was not at all the day Delenn had planned in her mind. When they reached the stout old tree Neroon had picked out for their goal, she settled herself on the ground only to have Mayan sit down close at her side. Neroon, alert to the undercurrents in the day's outing, sat at her other side, a very respectable distance away. Likewise, her friend insisted on claiming the book first, and while Delenn normally took great pleasure in Mayan's readings, with all the emotion her friend pulled into the rising and falling of her voice, this time she found herself resenting the intrusion. She had brought the book for something she and Neroon could appreciate together, and now... Delenn sighed.
After about an hour, Mayan admitted she needed a rest, and handed the book to Delenn, who read as confidently as she could, trying to make her soft voice sound like her friend's, while Mayan drank some of the tea she had brought in an insulated container. When Mayan held out her hand for the book again, though, Neroon held his out as well.
"We should each take our turn, so none of us tires our voice too much," Delenn said firmly. "Especially you, Mayan - you are to recite in temple this evening, remember?" She clambered to her feet to give the book to the young Warrior, and who could fault her, now that she was standing, if she sat down again close to his side? Mayan frowned, but the quirk of a smile and the proud warmth of the look she received from Neroon more than made up for her friend's irritation.
"In the heat of summer that year," Neroon read, continuing from where Delenn had left off, "when life was on the hillsides and the breezes blew gentle and warm, Valash came down from the mountains to a valley where the males had gathered. They gathered together in the growing warmth, and the stones moved with the sound of their thrumming."
Delenn blushed, and turned her head downward to pretend interest in the small plants growing at their feet. Some years before, when she and Mayan had first discovered the songs of Heefa, she had been utterly bemused by this part of the song. Now that she was older, she of course knew about the rhythmic rumble of males signaling readiness to mate, but it was all very different to think of while sitting a scant hands-breadth from a boy of whom she was desperately fond, listening to his smooth, rich voice describe these things.
"They gathered in the green," Neroon continued, apparently oblivious to her embarrassment or the glare that Mayan focused on him, "and waited for the women of the land to come to them. They gathered, and the women came, and listened to the rumbling of their desire. The women came, and Valash walked among them. The thrumming of the males filled the valley. The women walked over the grasses that trembled with the sound, and they looked on the males and judged them, and to all their eyes one was the best. His crest was sharp, his eyes bright, and the scales on his back smooth. All the women saw him, and agreed that he was the most pleasant to look on. Valash saw him, and said that he would be hers."
"We should read another section," Mayan interrupted.
"Why?" Delenn frowned at her friend. "You started the reading, and you chose the section. Why do you want to stop now?"
"Because--"
"Mayan! There you are!" All three young people started at the sound of an adult voice as Branmer, the guardian of the Star Temple, stepped into view from a copse of young trees. "I've been looking for you. Master Tannier has told me you wanted assistance applying for a period of study with the Ze'fann conservatory temple on the southern coast. It so happens I have a friend there - I thought perhaps we could speak to him, you and I, before prayers this evening."
Mayan looked clearly torn. "Thank you, Master, that would be very helpful, but--"
"Your friends will forgive you for abandoning them for a while, I think," Branmer assured her. "Won't you, Delenn?"
"Yes, Master. We will be just fine. Really," she added solemnly to her friend, "you needn't worry about us."
Unconvinced, Mayan stood, frozen, until Branmer gently took her arm. "Come, Mayan. We will speak to my friend in the south for you, and as for Delenn... I give you my word as a Star Rider she has nothing to fear from my clan-brother."
Mayan still seemed unsure, but she could hardly question the honesty and honor of one of the temple priests by refusing to accept his word like that without good cause. "I'll see you at evening prayer, Delenn," she said - it was an order, Delenn noticed, more than a farewell.
"I'll see you then," she agreed, and watched Mayan leave with Branmer.
"Your friend disapproves of me," Neroon said when they had passed out of sight.
"My friend thinks everything in life is like an old song," Delenn agreed, feeling tired. "She means well, but she has strange ideas sometimes."
Neroon nodded slowly. "Shall we continue?"
"If you want." Delenn felt heat rise on her face. She knew all too well why Mayan had suggested they skip to a new passage in the song - after a short battle with the women of the local clan, Valash claimed the best of the males, a man named Tulann, and following that was a section whose words had always made Mayan and Delenn giggle when they read them - the joining of Valash with her new husband, Tulann.
Neroon read the battle with some interest, Delenn noted - a piece of the writing that Mayan and Delenn had never quite skipped over, but had never paid much attention to when they read together. But it was not that part that he spoke with the greatest care.
"'When the last had yielded to her,'" he read, "'Valash walked up to the cluster of men, and the handsome clansman stood forth for her. "If you will have me," he said, "then I am yours, scarred stranger. My name is Tulann.""
"'Tulann and Valash went away together into the trees, and found a place in a green grove where none would bother them. They found a place where the ground was thick with sweet herbs, and the smell of them filled the air as Valash and Tulann laid down their cloaks. They found a place of quiet peace, and Tulann's thrumming filled the air, shaking the branches above them.'" He paused and made an exasperated noise. "And then there is a passage about Tulann, which I think we can skip."
"Why?"
"Because... because it is all about how beautiful he is."
"What if I approve of a passage about a beautiful man?" Delenn reached out and took the book from his hands, and read. She was grateful, now, that Mayan was gone - her voice was quiet and awkward enough without comparison to her friend's confident clarity, and her cheeks blazed with embarrassment, but it seemed important somehow to speak the words, anyway.
"'Most beautiful of men, Tulann, whose crest was like the mountain peaks and his eyes were grey like the morning. Most beautiful of men, Tulann, whose scales were smooth beneath Valash's fingers, like the petals of a flower. Most beautiful of men, Tulann, whose ren'helasae were blue as the sky at midday, and... hot to the touch. He laid Valash down on the grass, and...' um..." A soft, rhythmic sound, deep and penetrating, filled the air between them, and she stopped reading. For a moment she was unsure where it came from, and then an earlier passage came into her mind. 'Tulann's thrumming filled the air, shaking the branches above them.' Her fingers holding the book trembled, and she thought her face might glow with the heat of her blushing. All her newfound boldness evaporated, and she was suddenly left the same small, frightened acolyte she had been that first night in the Star Temple, weirdly terrified by the thought of the young Warrior at her side. Her heart raced, but she didn't want to run, she wanted... she...
The sound stopped, and Neroon, tense beside her, coughed awkwardly. "I... forgive me. I'm sorry, I--"
"It's all right..."
"It isn't. It was inappropriate, I..." He breathed a hiss of embarrassment and frustration. "I'm sorry."
"Don't be."
"What?"
"Don't be sorry." Delenn swallowed, but when she looked up at Neroon the look of surprise on his face somehow gave her courage. "I brought the book, and I asked you to read. If either of us is at fault... but I'm glad." Her eyes fluttered down again. "That you... I mean, I'm flattered that I... am appealing to you."
"Delenn..." He took the book gently from her hands, and read from it, a few lines down from where she had been, in a slow voice that wavered slightly as the words passed through him. "'I have seen the beauty of your movement, and my body longed to move in harmony with yours... The face I see, shadowed by leaves that move above us, is bright with beauty, with eyes that shine like the evening--'" He broke off, blushing again at the soft sound of his chest's thrumming as it moved the still summer air. "To me, you are more than appealing," he added softly.
***
As gratifying as it was for Master Branmer to take such an interest in her, when was more Delenn's friend than her own, and to go out of his way to arrange for her to speak with his friend at the coveted conservatory, when she had left his little office, she was more put out than ever. She went back tot he tree where Delenn had been sitting with the Star Rider boy, but they were gone. Out on the grounds somewhere, Mayan thought darkly, as she went back inside and decided, for no particular reason, to go down to the library. "Out on the grounds again," she fumed to Ashan, "alone together, and I wouldn't like to speculate as to what they are doing there."
"Walking about, I expect," said Ashan, carefully concealing a smile, "enjoying the weather."
Mayan huffed and threw herself into a chair.
"I have met the Star Rider. He has been in here on a number of occasions. He seems a decent sort--a bit brusque in his ways, but well-read in his subjects and very respectful."
"You can't mean you let him touch the books!" She was aghast. "Why, he--he might have damaged them!"
"Your concern is admirable, but I suggest it is misplaced." Ashan looked up from his task of minutely collating a worn brown folio. "He is as tender of my charges as though they were newborn infants, and as his hands are always gloved, I have no fears of him smudging the illuminations. Were I Head Archivist here, I would require all the students to wear gloves."
"They are only books, Ashan."
"They are past, present and future," he retorted calmly, marking his place with a slip of paper and closing the old book with his habitual care. "Now be frank, Mayan: what do you think they are doing?"
A thousand vague scenes flashed through Mayan's brain, muted and fuzzy and bringing a blush to her cheek without her quite understanding why... but honestly? "Reading," she had to admit. "We were all reading aloud before I left them."
"Reading," said Ashan, "is a singularly harmless pastime, in itself. Unless you three were reading something... improper?"
Mayan lowered her eyes. "Not exactly improper... We were reading aloud from The Songs of Heefa." She braced herself for the usual censure she and Delenn endured from the other teachers for their taste in literature, but all Ashan said was "Ahh." He rose and disappeared into the stacks, returning after a few minutes to lay a book before Mayan's bewildered face.
"I didn't think our library held a copy of this..."
"We do not. This is my personal copy. And very well-thumbed, I assure you."
"I brought my father's from home when I was ten years old. He was very angry when it was confiscated by Master Nafeel." She looked up and studied Ashan's plain, faintly amused face. "Most of the others think these tales are, well... inappropriate. Delenn and I used to always get in trouble for reading them during study. I'm surprised, that you read them. They are not nearly as--" Mayan searched frantically for polite descriptives. "--as contemplative as the poetry of the second century."
Ashan chuckled. "My father is also an archivist, so I practically grew up in his library. And I too used to get into trouble for reading The Songs of Heefa when I was meant to be studying... but I read them at home, so I usually got off with only a light scolding. My parents are a little over-fond of me."
Mayan felt a sudden warm surge of friendship for the tall, awkward librarian. "I am sure they have a reason to be."
He blushed and fumbled with his book. "W-where, um, where had you left off before Master Branmer came for you?"
"We had just reached the section in 'The Courtship of Valash and Tulann' where Tulann agrees to be Valash's mate."
"Ah. Well, I, er, I think we can skip that part..."
Ashan turned the worn pages carefully until he found a less inflammatory passage. "'Valash and Tulann took their swords and set off into the wilderness. They took their sharp swords and their warm cloaks and their water skins. They took their bows and their arrows and their slings. They took their weapons and their good blue beasts and set off into the wild.
"'Valash rode, and Tulann followed. Her beast knew her well, as the mother knows its child, and sped across the ground. It ran across the ground like wind in the summer, and the wind was in Valash's veins. She rode, and her mate followed. Tulann's mount was tall and sleek, as slender glass in summer, and pounded across the land. It thundered across the land like the thrum of an eager male, and the thrum was in Valash's blood. So Valash knew that her mate was a fine rider.'"
Mayan knew the words of the timeless poem nearly by heart, and had spoken them and heard them spoken countless times. But Ashan's voice took her by surprise. His stutter had vanished as though it had never existed, replaced by an instinctive rhythm for the wave-like cadence of the old song--rolling, rising, crashing, falling, lingering gently on the sweet details.
"'They came upon a down of enan'dun, great beasts of the north, whose coats were patched and mottled like old tents. Their summer coats were mottled and their flesh was fat, and Valash and Tulann were hungry. Valash aimed her bow and shot. The arrow sang through the air and wounded one of the frilled beasts. Its bellows and groans were as ice, cracking in the ocean, and the smell of its blood was in the air. The scent of blood was carried on the air, and Tulann was proud of his mate. The smell of their brother's blood maddened the down, and the beasts fled. Tulann rode after them, his crest blinding in the sunlight. His body moved with his mount, and their bodies shined in the sunlight. He aimed his bow and shot, and killed the beast with his arrow. He gave the arrow to Valash, in token of her first shot. He gave the meat and blood to Valash, that she might be strong and in time bear strong children. He gave the bones and skin to Valash, that she might build a shelter of them, and be warm and safe from other hunters. So Valash knew that her mate was a great hunter.'"
In her mind's eye, Mayan saw the scene as never before. She felt the kiss of the summer wind on her skin, and heard the twang of the arrow and the cries of the enan'dun, smelled the sharpness of fresh blood on the air. She saw the beauty of Tulann's body in the warm depths of Ashan's voice, and felt the sight and sound as strongly as a pair of fists chenched against her solar plexus.
"'Valash built a fire and cooked and ate of the beast's flesh. She gave back of the flesh and blood to her mate, that he would be strong and give her strong children. She made a shelter of the bones and skin, and shared it with Tulann, to keep him warm and safe from hunters and the chill of the short summer nights. Valash and Tulann held one another and slept in the shadow of the enan'dun carcase. They wrapped themselves in the white-brown fur and pressed close to one another and to their riding beasts. Valash rested her scarred cheek on Tulann's breast, and heard the strong beat of his heart, and slept. So Valash knew that she had chosen a good mate.'"
Ashan fell into one of his customary thoughtful silences, his head bowed over the text. Mayan blinked and suddenly she was back in the library. She felt strangely out of breath.
***
Spring's warmth settled into the earth, breaking the hard frost into water that woke and nourished the roots of plants and shrubs all around the temple gardens. And inside the temple walls, the same growing impulse settled in and warmed the blood and bones of the students. Which was why, on a fine day when the sun was bright and the winds heavy with the early smell of flowers from the gardens, Mayan and Delenn found themselves and their other female year-mates excused from their normal morning classes and ushered, instead, into Master Firell's classroom.
Firell's calm, slightly amused voice cut through the whispers and chatter as the students filed in. "Everyone sit, please. We have a great deal of material to go over, and I'm sure we'd all like to be finished quickly so we can enjoy the sunshine, hmm?" She smiled as the her charges sat down and quieted. "Good. Now. You will have noticed, I'm sure, that your male year-mates are not here. Some of you may have remembered previous sessions that were divided in this way and guessed the cause for this. Put simply, you are all in your eighteenth year of study in this temple, and will soon be leaving us to enter the service of Minbar as a whole. You will also soon be undergoing the second stage of your transition into physical adulthood. As such, this is the time for us to give you some instruction on what you may encounter in your adult lives."
Firell quickly reiterated the matters of basic physiology that she had already covered in previous discussions with the girls - the differences, external and internal, between male and female bodies, and the ways those bodies changed over time. "Over the next few years, the velvet that has provided blood and nutrition to your crests while they grew will begin to die off. It's normal for it to itch during this process." Unconsciously, Delenn reached up to scratch the soft, vascular covering on her own crest, and then lowered her hand, embarrassed, when she noticed that many of the other girls were doing the same. "Eventually," Firell continued, "it will fall off on its own. Don't be surprised if it takes a while, and don't be in a hurry to scrape it off before its time. As long as its there, your crest is getting food and oxygen from it, and that's necessary for the growth of a strong and healthy crest. You're stuck with what you get, for the most part, so you might as well give it as good a chance to be healthy as possible. And if you do scrape it off before it's ready," she added with a sigh, "you might cause a little bleeding. If that happens, go to the temple physicians and they will care for you."
Mayan nudged Delenn's side and made a face. "Like Helenn," she whispered - the name of a girl in the year above them, who, two years prior, had developed a nervous habit of scratching at her crest while studying, and had gone into something of a panic when she overdid it one day and bled right onto her history essay.
"Many of you have already experienced an attraction to another young person," Firell continued with a wry, smiling glance around the room. Immediately, irresistably, Delenn thought of Neroon, and felt herself blush. The only solace to her embarrassment was that she saw the same expression repeated around her. Even Mayan, to Delenn's surprise, looked a little bit perturbed... and not just because she had seen her friend's face, Delenn thought. She made a mental note to ask Mayan about that, later. "Once you are adults, some of you may wish to formalize your bond with this other person. For the record, I recommend caution. Marriage is intended as a bond that ties two people throughout this life, and will link you to them until the universe's end. Think carefully on this, meditate and pray for guidance, and take serious consideration before you make such a move."
One of the girls raised her hand. "Is that why you haven't married, Master Firell?"
Delenn winced, expecting their teacher to be insulted. Instead, Firell only nodded crisply. "Yes, it is. You have all your lives to make these decisions - do not rush them. And on that subject, another matter which I'm sure all of you will not rush into - sexual intercourse." Firell cast another long look over her students, her eyes amused even as her lips curved into a severe frown. "I am sure that all of you here think your teachers too foolish and staid to notice what goes on under our noses. I assure you, this is not the case. Whatever we say about the act of sex being best experienced as the culmination of a carefully-considered spiritual process that leads to the rituals of courtship, we all know that at least some of you will take all of that into consideration and then flat-out ignore us. I would prefer that not be the case. But even if it is, there are things you must know."
With patient care - as well as diagrams that made the girls all giggle uncomfortably - Firell explained the mechanics of the sexual act in calm, clinical detail. She described the thrumming produced by the male's lungs when he experienced arousal, a biological function intended to signal his willingness to mate with female before him, and that, if the female's feelings were appropriately engaged, produced a hormonal rejoinder in her that lubricated the vaginal walls and incited feelings of excitement and passion. Again, Delenn blushed brilliantly. While most of the girls around her looked, from the glances she shot out of the corner of her eyes, as if they could hardly imagine this feeling, Delenn remembered it all too vividly. Even the dry description Firell offered conjured memories in her mind - the heady smells of crushed grasses and herbs where she and Neroon had sat in the sun to read the old epic, and of leather and wool from his clothes, and the strange feeling of wanting to run, wanting to... do something, she hadn't known what, when she heard the rumbling rise up in his chest. This, then, was what her body had been urging her to.
The rest of Firell's explanations were laid over the mental image of Neroon in Delenn's mind. She pictured in him the smoothing and softening of the scales that guarded the spine in response to the hormones released by sexual awakening, and the heat of the cerulean patches that surrounded those scales, warmed by the rising of blood to the skin and the arousal of millions of nerve-endings in those bright areas, yearning to be touched. Quickened heartbeat, shallowed breath, dilated pupils. And the smooth, unfeatured mound between the legs of the male, with its nearly invisible slit from which the penile shaft had to be coaxed by a gentle hand before he could...
Delenn blushed so hard she thought her cheeks might actually catch fire.
She felt sure - absolutely certain - that the other girls around her would all be staring at her, aware of the thoughts in her mind and the fact that they had a very particular and, to them, highly unusual object. But when she glanced quickly around, no one was looking at her. Not even Mayan. Everyone, all the young women around her, were so caught up in their own feelings, their own concerns, that no one even considered casting a laughing eye on Delenn and her embarrassment. Relieved, Delenn returned her attention to the lecture.
"The other responses you must know are those of the third sex, the helasae'dar." This caused a quiet murmur to ripple through the assembled girls. While most if not quite all of them knew of the existence of the third sex, those born to it were kept apart from other children, safe in their own temples, studying with their own kind mysteries and knowledge that were largely unknown to the rest of the population. Delenn herself, having grown up in the big and bustling city of Yedor, had seen a few helasae'dar going about their business, and her father had responded to her childish questions about their different crests and the quietness of their ways by explaining that they were very special people who had an important duty to Minbar and its people, and thus kept themselves away from the rest of the population. She knew nothing else, and strained with curiosity to absorb all that Master Firell would tell.
"When you and your mate are ready to have children, you will go to one of their temples. There you will be instructed by one of the temple guardians - an older helas'dar who has passed sexual receptivity - and helped to put on ceremonial robes that never leave the grounds of that temple, and that are blessed for that purpose. You will return then to the main hall of the temple, and pray in the company of your mate for a third to come to you and assist with the creation of new life. When one does, you must be very polite and quiet. The helasae'dar are not used to life outside the temple, and the peace and serenity of that space and its inhabitants are to be respected with great care. The helas'dar will lead you to a private room, where he will join with you, and then leave you in seclusion so that your mate may do the likewise. There are some physiological differences between a male and a helas'dar, but you don't need to concern yourself with them apart from knowing that their joining with you directly prior to a male brings about physiological changes in a female's body that are necessary to produce a child."
"The other thing that it is necessary to know about the helasae'dar is that they are different from males, and from females." Firell looked very solemnly at her charges. "You must not touch them in any way that they do not specifically and directly invite or begin - it may make them very uncomfortable. You must not expect emotional involvement from them. If conception is successful, the helas'dar will come to you and help you through pregnancy and birth, and then return to his temple shortly after the naming ceremony and welcoming of the child. His time with you is a solemn duty to the future of Minbar, not a personal attachment, and you must remember that and honor him for it. And you should know that if the child you bear is a third as well, the helas'dar will take it away with him to be raised."
One of the girls raised her hand tentatively. "But... shouldn't the child stay with its parents, Master? No matter its gender?"
Firell shook her head. "If the child is helas'dar, Kadroni, his parents are the helasae'dar in the temple where he will live. It isn't right for male and female to try to raise one of the third - they would not know what to teach it or how to raise it to its duty, and it would be forever uncomfortable and disturbed by the world outside the temple."
Kadroni nodded solemnly, though her eyes looked a bit scared, and Delenn wondered what it was that had caused the other girl to think of such a question.
"You all have many years until the details of the ritual of conception should be of concern to you but that is the basic information you will need," Firell assured them. "As for the rest, what I will say is that although it all sounds very distant and strange at the moment, you will find it much less so if you follow the proper course of rituals when the time comes. Ritual and ceremony lead us from one step to the next in a comfortable, controlled manner, and give us a frame in which to understand each step along the way. As worried as you and your lover may be about pleasing one another, you will be less concerned if you know them well and are closely familiar with their mind and soul before you begin, and if you take care to separately examine and explore all the many varieties and areas of pleasure that are in you both during the shan'fal. If you are patient and careful, and willing to speak openly with your partner about what you feel and think, you will have less trouble, and be happier for it." She folded her hands carefully. "Now. Questions?"
A long silence fell between the girls. When one girl finally raised her hand, it was with a shy and worried expression. "What about, Master, if our heart... if we are drawn to another girl?" With a sudden realization, Delenn noticed that the girl next to her, one who she had always thought the closest of friends, as she was to Mayan, blushed brilliantly, but held the first girl's hand with a quiet determination.
Firell smiled. "That is nothing to worry about, Vadenn. Some females' hearts are called together, as are some males'. The only differences are that you will be more easily aware of what each other's bodies desire, because your own is structured similarly, and that your own hearts or the desires of your families may call on one or the other of you to choose a male friend with whom you can have a child. Be certain if you do that you have a conversation before, including the male as well as your families, as to where and with whom the child should best be raised. The male will probably want to be involved at least a little in his child's life, so be sure you choose one you like and trust. Beyond that, my advice is all the same. Anyone else?"
Another girl raised her hand. "When... when a male is..." She flushed and looked down at her hands, but managed at least to force out the words, "Does it hurt?"
Firell's smile was mild and gentle. "Not if you're both careful. Penetration should not be uncomfortable - the female body lubricates itself, and the lead-up to intercourse should ensure that process is well underway by the time you get to that point. Take your time, be patient, don't be afraid, and if it does hurt, talk to a physician. It does feel strange, but if you and your partner take your time, you'll get used to that, and get past it to thinking about other things, fairly quickly."
"She said it like she knew," Mayan said later as she and Delenn walked out on the grounds before lunch.
"And?"
"Well, she's not married, that's all."
Delenn frowned at her friend. "Everyone knows it's not strictly necessary. Maybe there was someone, at some point. An understanding, and then..."
"He died? Or left her?" Mayan considered this, clearly weighing the dramatic possibilities for a poem. "Maybe. Still, it seemed like a strange thing for her to admit to."
"You're not really disapproving of her for that, are you?"
"Of course not. It just... surprises me, I guess. I can't see any of our other teachers saying something like that accidentally." Mayan scrunched up her face in sudden thought. "...And I think I prefer it that way, now that I think of it. If Master Midiri does any of that sort of thing, I'd rather not know about it. And I'd rather not think about it, too."
"So it wasn't her you were thinking of," Delenn teased.
"No!"
"Well, then who? I wasn't aware you had anybody in particular, but you certainly looked as if you were thinking of someone..." Just as the words came out of her mouth it occurred to Delenn that she probably didn't really want Mayan thinking in that direction, for fear her friend would turn the question around on her.
Fortunately, Mayan appeared too confused by the workings of her own mind to consider Delenn's. "I don't, you know that. But... it was strange. As she was talking about... that... my mind just seemed to sort of... leap. To Ashan."
"Who?"
"Ashan." But Mayan neither looked nor spoke like a girl in love. She looked... perplexed, more than anything else. "My poetry tutor."
"Oh. I didn't know... You haven't said much about him."
Mayan shook her head. "I haven't thought much about him until very recently. I mean, he's very kind, and helpful, and very knowledgeable. And he actually has a lovely voice, when he can stop himself stuttering all the time. He knows everything about history and poetry, and there's a sort of sadness in his eyes sometimes that... But it's still strange." She shook her head. "I just never thought of him that way before. And I'm not entirely sure I like that I did, now."
"Why not?"
"Because he's my tutor? Because he has a body like a tree in the middle of winter, all stick-out-y points and angles? And did I mention that he stutters?"
Delenn smiled. "My father looks a little like a tree in winter. He's always been thin, he can't help it. But I've seen a few pictures of him as a young man, and he did fill out a bit."
"Well, maybe he would be right for you, then," Mayan grumbled.
"But you're the one who thought of him," Delenn pointed out quickly.
"I know. I just don't know why."
"Maybe because you like him."
A blush crept over Mayan's cheeks again. "He... he read a bit of the Song of Heefa to me the other day. After I talked with Branmer about the conservatory, I went to the library, and we were talking about..." She bit her lip. "About what I'd been doing earlier in the day."
Delenn glanced away, down at her hands. "You mean you were talking about going out with Neroon and I onto the grounds."
"Well, yes, but only because--"
"Branmer was right, Mayan. Neroon doesn't mean me any harm. I know it."
"I want to believe you." Mayan took her hand, pressing it to her own heart. "I do, truly. But... you've only known him a few months. And he's a Warrior. They do things differently. You just can't be sure of what he's thinking about all of this."
As if the sound of his name has summoned him from nothing, Neroon appeared at the end of the corridor, wearing an expression of utter consternation. He hardly seemed to see where he was going, but as he approached he suddenly noticed them. Delenn flushed crimson, to her annoyance, but to her surprise so did Neroon. Mayan narrowed her eyes at the Warrior and tightened her grip on Delenn's hand.
Neroon tore his gaze away and focused on a stone sconce about a foot above the girls' heads. "Master Branmer sent me to find you. Shaimir Ashan came to the Star Temple. He was concerned that Shaimira Mayan had missed her tutoring session. I can only assume that he was not aware of today's..." The boy coughed into his glove. "Today's lesson."
It was Mayan's turn for a red face. "I, um..." Torn as she was between the safety of her friend and her obedience to her teacher, her natural curiosity over the feelings she was experiencing won out over her confusion. "I think I should go to Ashan and explain my absence. Delenn, you--?"
"I will be fine, Mayan," said Delenn, as firmly as she could manage. She watched Mayan hurry away, and a smile tugged at her lips. "I think our resident romantic may be falling in love without realizing it."
"At least now she'll know what to do about it, if she is." Neroon's embarrassed color did not fade; if anything, it grew more pronounced.
"Yes," said Delenn, looking down at the books clutched in her hands. "It was... a very enlightening class. Who was the male instructor?"
"I believe it was Master Nafeel. I was not present."
Delenn blinked. "Why ever not?"
"Because I didn't need to repeat that lesson."
"You mean you already...? Oh..."
"Some years ago, yes."
"Oh." A memory, a very recent and warm memory, tugged at her. "Then... that was what you meant, that afternoon under the tree, when you said you..." Her heart began to race. "You found me more than appealing." Neroon nodded. "Now I know what you meant."
"Yes, now you know," said the Warrior boy in a rather strangled voice. "Where I've been making advances to a girl who had no idea what I was talking about! I--Delenn, my behavior has been grossly inappropriate." He stood very straight, his cheeks still burning, his black eyes still fixed on the wall sconce. "If you wish I will withdraw my attentions and leave you in peace."
Her surprise was replaced by a considering frame of mind. "It bothers you that much, that I was ignorant of your desires?"
"Yes! If I had known... well, I would have kept my mouth shut until--"
"Until today." Delenn took two steps forward, reached up and touched Neroon's face. "I do not wish you to withdraw your attentions." A tiny smile, that shocked her with its coyness, curled the ends of her lips. "How could I wish such a thing, now that I know what I have to look forward to in the future?"
A small sound, reluctant but definite, rumbled up from Neroon's chest, sending delicious shivers through Delenn's blood, and his dark, dark eyes were warm and soft.
He leaned forward and kissed her, slowly at first, but with increasing warmth and urgency. Delenn closed her eyes, molding her body against his as he deepened the kiss...
"Ahem."
They broke apart at once, coloring up with embarrassment. Master Branmer glared at them with subdued amusement, and a good deal of annoyance. "Neroon was so aghast at his breach of protocol that he is late for supper. I came to make sure he hadn't found a sword to fall on in disgrace. I'm glad to see I was mistaken." The viridian eyes glittered, and Delenn and Neroon bowed their heads. "A little more decorum in future, please, my children."
"Yes, Master," they mumbled in unison. Delenn had blushed so many times that day, she wondered if her face would ever return to its normal color. She snuck a glance at Neroon, worried that he might feel even more shame at being scolded by his foster-parent, but instead he looked strangely pleased.
"Hmph. Well, since Delenn is already here--and I suspect Mayan will be some time in explaining her absence to her tutor--she may as well come and eat with us." He turned back towards the Star Temple, leaving the two students to hurry and catch up.
"I don't think I've ever seen Master Branmer cross before," Delenn ventured to whisper
Neroon grinned. "He isn't cross. It is his job to disapprove of egregious displays of public affection among his students. Once we get to the Annex, he'll be himself again."
"Everyone is acting unlike themselves today! Mayan is all out of sorts, Master Branmer is pretending to be cross, and Master Firell was saying all kinds of strange things."
"...During the lesson?"
"In a way... when she was answering questions, it sounded very much like she was speaking out of, well, personal experience!" Neroon's face suddenly went blank. "It is strange," she continued, misinterpreting his silence as disapproval, "for I have never heard of her being married or betrothed, or even that she had someone in her life, but the way she spoke, as though she were trying to reassure us through her own knowledge..." She frowned, not seeing Neroon's pained expression, and then shrugged. "Whoever he is, she certainly seems pleased with him."
Neroon coughed loudly; Delenn stared at him. His black eyes flickered to the tall man walking in front of them, and then Delenn managed to barely see the slow red flush staining Branmer's cheeks.
She stopped dead in her tracks, just over the threshold of the temple. Neroon halted as well, to let Branmer escape into the Annex and regain his composure. "Sorry," he said with an uneasy grin. "But I wasn't sure how to stop you."
Delenn let her books fall to the floor and buried her face in her hands. Every time she thought this day could not possibly get more embarrassing, the universe stepped up to prove her wrong. "You should have picked me up and tossed me out the nearest window," she muttered, her voice muffled. "Did you know?"
"Not really. I suspected something--I have done for years."
"Why? You'd never met Firell before this year."
"No, but Branmer used to talk about her often in his letters. Only daily happenings, things of that sort. And then when I turned up here, he never mentioned her. It wasn't difficult to guess."
"He is never going to speak to me again." And what Master Firell might say... Delenn was suddenly horrified to attend classes with her tomorrow.
Carefully hiding his smile, Neroon put a comforting arm about her shoulders and drew her against his chest. "He has nothing to reproach you for. He knows you didn't mean to say anything improper."
"But... why are they hiding? Why do they not simply marry and have done with it? Then there would be no need for secrecy."
Neroon was silent for a moment. "Knowing Branmer... he's probably content with what he has already." He kissed her cheek softly. "Now. Come in and have something to eat. He will let it pass if you will."
Delenn nodded, but waited until the heat had faded from her face before she dared enter the Annex.
***
Mayan arrived at the library to find Ashan seated at a table near the front, far away from his usual retreats deep in the archives. He looked strangely worried. The strange thing was not that Ashan looked worried - he usually seemed to be worried about something, as if a furrowed brow and air of hesitation were simply part of his nature - but, Mayan realized, the way he was dealing with it. Typically when he worried, Ashan made himself busy with something. He would be up and about, tidying shelves or rearranging obscure bits of paperwork, or making notes in a slightly ratty old notebook that he seemed to carry everywhere. Instead, he was still. He slumped in his chair like a root over a stone, and one long arm draped onto the table. His head hung as if his neck was too weak, suddenly, to hold it up.
“Ashan?”
He looked up. “Ah... Mayan. Master Branmer said you, ah...” Ashan blushed. “He said you had a class today.”
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I should have thought to send a message when we were told this morning.”
“No, no. No... no trouble.” Ashan winced at his repetition. “No trouble at all. These things happen.”
“I really am sorry, though. If I’d known in advance--”
“I’m sure you would have notified me, Mayan. Temple administrations do like to spring... these, um, sorts of instructions, on students with minimal warning. It allows less time for speculation and gossip. At least, I’m told that was the logic when I was at temple.”
Mayan regarded him closely. “You make it sound as if that was centuries ago. You can’t be more than a decade older than me... and I think it’s much less. How long have you been out of temple?”
Ashan coughed awkwardly and looked away. “Two years.” His cheeks colored a little as he said it, and his hands... Mayan wasn’t even quite sure what he’d done, precisely - some sort of complicated fidgeting gesture with the pen he’d been holding, as if he was writing something in the air with it. But she felt suddenly enthralled by his hands. Specifically his fingers, which were long and thin, like everything about him, but blunt-tipped and faintly callused under the ink-stains. They were oddly elegant hands, and something about the shape of his wrist bones jutting weirdly out of them into the flat plane of his forearm... What a strange thing to notice, she thought. What a strange thing to focus on. But it all somehow brought back the sensation she’d had earlier, when Master Firell had been talking and all of a sudden, seemingly out of nowhere, she’d thought of Ashan. Pictured him, as Master Firell described... things.
Mayan shook herself mentally, and forced her eyes up to Ashan’s face. He looked away, at his pen, and she thought she saw a hint of a flush on his cheeks. “So you’re three and a half years older than me.”
“Er. Yes. Roughly.” Definitely flushing. “Possibly four.”
“That’s not much.”
“Not... not really, but it can... feel like quite a bit, at times.”
“But it isn’t,” Mayan insisted. “Not really.”
“Well, no, not in terms of the, er, complete life cycle, or in an historical sense, but--”
If she’d been asked to explain herself, Mayan could never have really said why she did what she did then. It was curiosity, mostly. Honest, perhaps even slightly idle, curiosity. So much had been said that morning, and Delenn had worn a strangely familiar, recognizing look through some of it, and Mayan supposed later that she must have felt just slightly jealous of her friend. She’d wondered about so many of the things that were said, and more about the things she’d thought and felt, and here was a chance to explore those things more. Mayan leaned across the table and kissed Ashan on the lips. They were the one part of him, it seemed, that wasn’t at all dusty or inky, but pleasantly soft and warm.
She had just enough time to think that she quite liked this new experience before those same long fingers were holding onto her shoulders, pushing her gently but firmly away.
“Mayan... stop, please. Stop. We cannot do this.” Ashan’s expression was calm and regretful, almost sad, and there was a distance in his light brown eyes that she’d never seen before.
Something twisted in Mayan’s stomach. “What’s wrong? Didn’t you like--”
“Mayan.” Ashan held up his hand for silence. “You are my student, and I am your tutor, and you... you are still very young. This... isn’t right.”
“But I just wanted...” She trailed off and frowned, then pulled herself together and bowed to the older boy. “I’m sorry. Please forgive my presumption, Tutor Ashan.”
The formality of the apology seemed to recall Ashan to himself somewhat. “There’s no need for all that. You didn’t mean anything by it. You were just curious, and that’s entirely understandable at your age. I, er... would like you to feel safe and comfortable with me, Mayan. But... there must be limits.”
Mayan bowed her head. “Yes, Ashan.”
“Good. Er. Now. Let’s see if we can’t get through a bit of Bhurli’s work before you have to go to supper, shall we?”
***
Their lesson was short, but Mayan was quick to assure Ashan that she would have more time the next afternoon to make up for it. What made him less happy was noticing how quiet and distant his normally enthusiastic student was for the rest of their session.
It was necessary, Ashan told himself. He had done the right thing by stopping her, and the right thing by being a little stern with her, much as it hurt him. She had meant nothing by the kiss, only a young girl’s enthusiasm and curiosity to explore a new idea that she had just heard about. He should have felt pleased that she trusted him, regarded him as harmless and a safe outlet for her exploration... and he should have felt even more pleased at how dutifully and apologetically she had accepted his insistence that it not happen again.
Now if only his own mind would accept that moral lesson as well.
In truth, he had allowed his mind to go off-track before that day. He had known Mayan was young, but he had been so drawn to her quick wit and intelligence, her sweet voice and the lively beauty of the verse drafts she had read to him with earnest excitement over her own budding skill, that he had allowed himself to forget her age. There were, after all, only a few years between them. But when Branmer told him that his lovely student was away receiving the lectures that went with second puberty, the significance of those years had crashed down upon him again with the heavy shame of centuries. Clever and talented and beautiful as she was, Mayan was still very young, with a child’s understanding of the world. It was wrong for him, an adult even though still a student, and a tutor even though only a few years older than her, to regard her with anything but professional care.
Of course, barely had he inured himself to that idea before she kissed him. And, weak and stupid with thwarted affection, he had allowed it.
It must not happen again.
***
On the other side of the temple grounds, Avaier breezed into the master's office. "You wanted to see me, av'sala?"
Master Midiri laid down her stylus and smiled benevolently at the young male. He was not her grandson in truth, but everyone in their small clan now referred to her as 'grandmother,' even those who were nearly her age, and Avaier was the youngest of them all. "Sit down, child."
The tall, husky boy took the chair she indicated, and crossed his arms. There was something distinctly haughty in his bearing and manner, as if he was master here instead of his clan-mother, and had any other student acted so in front of Midiri, the chastisement would have been swift. But she looked upon Avaier's pride as no more than was his due. "There is something of great importance that I must speak of with you."
He looked vaguely worried. "Is this about my poetry project? Because I must tell you, grandmother, that tutor--"
"No, no. Shaimir Ashan's reports on your progress have been quite favorable."
"Ah." Avaier sat back with a self-satisfied little smile. "Of course. It's a simple enough subject, for one who understands."
"Bright boy," said Midiri proudly. "No, I wanted to speak to you of your future after you leave us--your personal future." Avaier began to look uncomfortable again. "As the last son of our clan, you have a very important duty ahead of you."
"Yes, I know..."
"Now, obviously you're too young for such a responsibility now," said Midiri, in what was meant to be a soothing voice, as the boy blushed. After all, he had only just reached final puberty and learned what awaited him once he found a mate. "But it is always prudent to think ahead."
"Think ahead...?"
"You have always been exceptionally popular among your female year-mates. Many of them are from very good families and populous clans. You could do far worse than choosing a wife from among them."
Avaier shrugged and looked bored. "What would be the point? It will be years until I am able to marry."
"To marry," said Midiri, quite deliberately, "yes. But there are other things a handsome boy may do with the female of his choosing, while they are waiting to marry. Such intimacies," she continued, now that she had his full attention, "bind the hearts, as well as serving as one of the greatest pleasures of the universe."
Her clan-child seemed slightly stunned, but he was listening closely. "There is one female, that I've long been partial to. Delenn ra'Mir."
Midiri nodded. "An excellent choice. A very good family, quiet, docile... and very pretty."
"But she won't be bothered with me!" he groused. "She spends all of her time with that Star Rider brat."
"If Delenn is who you want, then you shall have her."
Avaier frowned. "How, exactly?"
"That is your business, child. She is quite timid, but I think she can be stubborn. She may require more vigorous courting efforts." Midiri smiled fondly at Avaier. "No matter, whatever methods you choose will be acceptable. Press your suit, av'ierma. I will see to the Star Rider, somehow."
(Continued in Part 4.5)
