“Oh, I wish I knew if you meant that, or if the geas is making you say it...”

Wine Can't be Pressed into Grapes

by Trismegistus Shandy

Part 13 of 22

This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-Share Alike 3.0 United States License. Feel free to repost or mirror it on any noncommercial site or list. You can also create derivative works, including adaptations to other media, or new stories using the same setting, characters and so forth, as long as you mention and point to the original story.

An earlier version of this novel was serialized on the tg_fiction mailing list from December 2010 to March 2011. Thanks to the people who posted comments on that draft.

The dining hall was crowded during supper; several of Tsavila's aunts, uncles and cousins on her mother's side, and a few of Itsulanu's kinfolks, had arrived before them, and other extended family and friends arrived within an hour or two after the party from Psavian's city house. During supper Tsavila had sat between her father and Itsulanu, as before, while Launuru and Kazmina sat between Verentsu and his cousin Tepsunam, far down the chief table from Tsavila. After supper, when the men went out into the courtyard and left the women to chat and play games in the dining hall, Tsavila was kept busy greeting her various aunts and cousins who had arrived in the last few hours; Launuru and Kazmina found little opportunity to speak with her, and none to speak privately. Psilina's servant brought in Miretsi, who had awoken and was getting hungry; Psilina let Nuasila nurse her, and this excited much comment and led to an explanation of Kazmina's magic. She was briefly the center of attention, but as many of the women present spoke only Ksiluri, they soon lost interest. Kazmina spoke with some of the wizards in Rekhim, but she seemed to Launuru to be still too sleepy to hold up her end of the conversation.

When the company broke up and those who had arrived just before or during supper were shown to their bedrooms or tents, Tsavila found Launuru and Kazmina and said said she would show them their room herself.

“I'm afraid it's not as good as the bed you had last night,” she said, leading them past the kitchens and down stairs into a cellar, “but you won't have to share it with two other women... with so many guests, all the servants and house-slaves are sleeping in tents for the next few nights, and we're giving their quarters to the young women and children among our friends and kinfolks; the young men will sleep in tents too, and the good bedrooms are mostly reserved for the old folks...” When they got to the room appointed for them, a narrow cell with a bed no more than a third the size of the one they and Tsaikuno had slept in last night, Tsavila didn't merely point it out to them and rush off; she entered, beckoned them in after her, and closed the door behind them.

She burst out with an exclamation in Rekhim, to which Kazmina replied with an astonished air; after a few moments' excited back-and-forth, Tsavila said to Launuru in Ksiluri: “I know who you are.”

Launuru was too shocked to speak for a moment, and then found that she could not say anything — the next several things she tried to say, the geas would not permit. After a few moments, Tsavila went on:

“Oh, Launuru, I'm so sorry my father treated you so. I've spoken to him and he's agreed to make it up to you somehow, and remove the new geas he's placed on you — oh, I forgot, you might not know about that. He put a geas on you yesterday, not long after you arrived at our home, to keep you from telling us who you were. But Verentsu figured out that you weren't what you appeared to be, and he told me he was worried — ”

That explained his suddenly cool demeanor this morning, Launuru thought. But, no, the timing was wrong...

“ — and so I looked into your mind. We don't normally do that without permission, you know, but Verentsu thought you and Kazmina might be impostors — I thought that was silly, it was far more likely that Kazmina was playing some kind of prank on me, but I saw that Verentsu was right, you probably weren't really a Vetuatsenu. And then I saw who you were, but I didn't have a chance to talk to you freely until now, and I'm sorry about everything — ” She broke off, crying.

Launuru found that she still couldn't say anything, but the geas didn't prevent her from embracing Tsavila. They stood there for a few moments. Launuru started to cry, too.

Kazmina said something softly in Rekhim; Tsavila replied briefly, then said in Ksiluri: “Father worried that Itsulanu would be jealous of you, if he found out who you you were — maybe he would be, if he saw us now.” She smiled through her tears.

Launuru surprised herself by saying, “Why should he be jealous?” A moment later she realized that just then, what she'd wanted to say and what “Shalasan” would naturally say happened to be the same thing.

“Oh!” Tsavila exchanged some words with Kazmina in Rekhim, then sat down at the head of the bed and patted the space beside her. “Sit down. We can't talk much longer; someone will come looking for me — and I suppose you can't say much, with the geas still on you. I haven't told Verentsu yet — when he told me his suspicions and I looked into your mind, I was so confused I wasn't sure what to do. We only had a few quiet moments together this morning, and I wasn't sure how to tell him. I confronted Father about it not long after we teleported here. He wants to keep the geas on you until after my wedding, and I want him to take it off right away — we were still arguing about that when we got interrupted, and we haven't had a chance to talk privately since. I'll keep working on him. I would take it off myself, but since it's a spell I didn't cast myself, it will take me hours, maybe days, to figure out how to undo it — I won't have that time until after Itsulanu and I are out of our wedding hermitage...” She paused. “Does it bother you? Me and Itsulanu, I mean...? Oh, dear, I suppose the geas won't let you answer that.”

Launuru, struggling to find something else the geas would let her say, finally came up with “Why should it bother me?” She smiled and went on: “You and Itsulanu are a beautiful couple — I hope you will be very happy together.”

“Oh, I wish I knew if you meant that, or if the geas is making you say it... I hadn't time to study it close and see how it works. May I look into your mind again?”

Launuru wanted to say yes, but found herself unable.

Tsavila looked hesitant, and spoke with Kazmina for a few moments in Rekhim. Then, in Ksiluri: “I think I can take that as a yes... if the geas were forcing you to speak, it would make you say no, and if you wanted to say no, it wouldn't prevent you. So...”

Launuru braced herself, not knowing what such a search would feel like or if she would feel anything. When there came a sudden knock on the door, she jumped and gave a yelp.

“Beg your pardon,” said a muffled voice from the hall. Tsavila rose and opened the door.

“Oh!” said a woman a few years older than Launuru with a slave-tattoo on her right forearm. “I didn't know you were here, mistress. Your father sent me to find the foreign ladies — he wants to speak with one of them.”

“Which one?” Tsavila asked, and the slave hesitated, looking at Kazmina and Launuru in turn. “Never mind; we'll all go.” She spoke to Kazmina in Rekhim, and a moment later they all left the room.

“We've got to keep our stories straight,” Kazmina said in Rekhim, as she and Launuru followed Tsavila and the slave down the hall. “Remember, your father thinks I was helping him punish Launuru...”

“I know,” Tsavila said; “that's why I didn't confront him, after what you told me, until I could confirm it another way, and tell him that I looked into Launuru's mind because of Verentsu's suspicions, not because you told me who she was. And I didn't tell Launuru the whole truth, either — she thinks I found out who she was after Verentsu told me of his suspicions; she doesn't know you told me, so Father can't find out by looking into her mind.”

“What do you think he's going to do?”

“I'll see to it that he does right by Launuru, one way or another.”

That didn't exactly answer her question, but she said nothing more. Kazmina wasn't sure which of the guests were wizards, she'd been so sleepy when they first arrived and were introduced to people, so she thought it best not to discuss their business further here in case some of the people around them understood Rekhim. They passed down the narrow corridor through the servants' quarters, busy with guests settling in to their rooms and servants and slaves coming and going with luggage, bedding, lamps and candles, through the main dining hall, where a few slaves were still mopping the floor and scrubbing the tables, and up another flight of stairs to a broader and even busier corridor. Guests, free servants and slaves were bustling up and down the corridor, in and out of rooms, chatting and giving orders and arguing. Tsavila knocked at a door two-thirds of the way down the hall, and identified herself when her father asked who was there.

Psavian opened the door, and spoke with Tsavila and Launuru for a few moments in Ksiluri. Launuru spoke up quietly after a minute. Finally he said to Kazmina:

“I'm sorry — I wished to speak to your cousin alone before I sent for my daughter and yourself. I will send for you again soon, or you may wait here... But as the discussion will necessarily be mostly in Ksiluri, perhaps you would wish to return to your room, and let my daughter or myself inform you later of what we discussed?”

“I would prefer,” she replied, “to be present while you speak with my cousin.” Some of the guests on this hall must be wizards, if Psavian was still referring to Launuru as her cousin. “I can attest that nothing untoward was done, and you will have no less privacy for your discussion for my presence, as I don't understand Ksiluri.”

Tsavila spoke up: “That makes sense. I think you should let Kazmina sit in. I'd rather be there too, but I'll give in if you let Kazmina watch and make sure you don't work another spell on her.”

Kazmina wasn't sure how much help she would be — she knew so little of their school of magic that she hadn't detected it when he broke through the shield she'd placed on Launuru's mind, or when he put the new geas on her. But she didn't want to leave Launuru alone with him.

“Very well,” he said. “Tsavila, have you spoken with your brother about this yet?”

“No.”

“Please do me the courtesy of not telling him about this until after our discussion tonight is concluded. Perhaps tomorrow would be better — he is busy helping our younger guests find their tents and settle in.”

“All right. I'll wait right here.”

Psavian spoke to Launuru briefly in Ksiluri, then held the door open while she and Kazmina entered the room. Tsavila stood in the hallway, glaring suspiciously at her father as he closed the door.

“Now we can speak freely, young lady,” Psavian said, as he sat down in his ornate chair carved with cranes and armadillos and gestured for Launuru and Kazmina to take their pick of the four other chairs in the room. “In a moment I will adjust the geas — I gather that my daughter told you about it? — so that you will be able to speak with me, or my daughter, about your true history and identity. I'll leave it in place with respect to Verentsu or anyone else, until we conclude our negotiations in a satisfactory way. Is that clear?”

“Yes,” Launuru said. She squirmed uncomfortably as Psavian silently regarded her for what seemed like a hundred heartbeats or more. She was glad Kazmina was here, even if she couldn't understand what Psavian was saying.

“There,” Psavian said. “Let me make my position clear. I wish to keep my own reputation, and that of my daughter, spotlessly clear. Her wedding to Itsulanu must proceed according to plan, and there must be no stain on her honor either before or after it. Since my daughter has found out about you, due to my old friend's daughter being too clever by half,” — he smiled at Kazmina, who smiled back, unaware of his insult, if it was an insult — “I am forced to compromise on some of my original goals — revenge on the man who trifled with my daughter's affections, and keeping that revenge secret from my own children — but I remain obdurate on this point. At Tsavila's insistence, I will concede whatever does not bring dishonor to my name or Tsavila's, or hinder her from marrying Itsulanu.”

“What do you mean?” Launuru asked. “What concessions are you talking about?” Her courses in trade-negotiations were coming back to her.

“I will modify the geas I placed on you,” he said, “or even, perhaps, remove it entirely, if I am satisfied that neither by word or deed will you reveal certain facts to anyone who does not already know about them — one, the history of your dalliance with Tsavila; two, how I put a geas on you and sent you to find Znembalan; three, the exact details of how you returned here. We can come up with a mutually agreeable story about your disappearance and return which removes, as far as possible, any blot on your own reputation caused by rumors that arose in the wake of your sudden disappearance, while putting no blame on anyone connected with my family.”

Launuru thought hard. “I think our interests are congruent,” she said. “Whatever I privately think of you, I don't wish your mistreatment of me to be generally known for several reasons. An injury to your reputation will also hurt people I care about, Verentsu and Tsavila and their brothers... And I don't want little Paukuno or Miretsi, for instance, to grow up knowing what a vindictive man their grandfather is.” The moment she said this last, she regretted it; she should stay on his good side as far as possible. “That can remain our little secret,” she added with a coquettish smile.

“Then we are in agreement,” he said. “It only remains to decide what we will tell people about why you left Niluri and how you happened to return... it would be most convenient if Kazmina changed you back into your old self, soon after the wedding, and no one but ourselves knew that Shalasan of Netuatsenu was actually you.” He spoke to Kazmina in Rekhim; she said to Launuru in Tuaznu, “He asked me if I would change you back into a man, your old self; do you want that?”

“Wait a bit,” Launuru said to her. To Psavian she said: “Not so fast. You have not heard my own requirements.”

“Oh?”

“You asked me to give my word not to tell anyone about the events of the past six months who does not already know about them. I want to make one exception: Verentsu.”

“I would prefer — ”

“It's too late to keep the matter secret from him; Tsavila will tell him sooner or later. If you put a geas on her,” — she almost said, If you would stoop so low as to put a geas on your own daughter, but checked herself and spoke more neutrally — “then she will find a way to undo it, sooner or later. All I ask is that I be allowed to tell him my story, rather than letting Tsavila do it.”

“I see... I will consider...”

“I said, 'all I ask', but I meant, that is the only exception I ask to your conditions. I have one other requirement.”

“Yes?”

“Please give me your permission to court your son Verentsu, give him permission to take me to wife, and give your blessing to our children.”

Psavian looked astonished. “I see,” he said. “I saw, when I looked into your mind, that you were becoming enamored of my son; but I did not expect you to be so... forward, in seeking a match with him.”

Launuru blushed and tried to look demure and ladylike. “I apologize if I spoke too boldly. Kazmina has given me a woman's heart, not merely a woman's form; but perhaps I still have a man's mind, in some ways. I will always have been a boy.”

“Well, we can work on that... I suppose that means that you aren't willing to become a man again?”

Launuru hesitated. “Perhaps,” she said, “if Verentsu refuses me; it would simplify things with my family. Becoming a man fills me with dread, but I know it would come to feel natural within a day or two, just as when Kazmina made me a woman. But I hope to remain a woman, and to be your daughter-in-law this time next year.”

“Perhaps, perhaps. That will depend upon Verentsu. It will complicate our task of contriving a plausible story for your last six months, but I think we can manage. Have you any other demands, or is that all?”

Launuru thought quickly. “Yes: you must not expect a dowry from my parents. I have three younger sisters, and our family's means will be stretched quite enough providing them with dowries; my parents had no reason to expect me to need one as well.”

Psavian waved his hand expansively. “It's not much you ask,” he said. “Very well, then: you promise to tell no one of your true history, except for Verentsu, and I promise to put no difficulties in the way of you marrying him. I will lift the geas soon after we devise a suitable false history for you. You must continue to play the role of Shalasan for the next two or three days; you've been introduced to too many people in that guise — but soon after the wedding, when our other guests have left, you must drop that pretense, for it annoys Znembalan. Probably it is best if Kazmina alters your appearance again, making you look like a Viluri woman; we can tell people that you've just arrived, returning home in your altered form for some plausible reason.”

“Very well. Perhaps you should call in Tsavila, to be witness to our agreement?”

“In a moment. I have one other thing to say. If I were unconstrained, I would simply modify the geas on you, compelling you to stick to whatever story we devise except when speaking privately with certain people. My daughter insists upon my removing it entirely, so I will have to trust your word. But if you break your promise, any time before your possible wedding with Verentsu, you will descend into a torment of madness. If you break your word some time after that, I will have to find some other means of vengeance that won't injure my son; but rest assured, it will not be any more pleasant for you.”

“This threat is unnecessary,” Launuru said; “as I pointed out, if I were to make your misconduct known, it would hurt not only you, but me and people I care for. And my word is good.”

“It is enough if we understand one another.” Psavian rose and went to the door.

The full novel is already available from Lulu.com. I'm serializing it here in twenty-two parts, at least one chapter per week if I can manage it. I'm liable to have limited Internet access in the next couple of weeks, though, so I may not be able to post the next chapter for a while.