He hadn't said anything to Zhen at the time. He'd dragged his demon husband back to his apartment, with a hot water bottle and a full pot of tea. The Enlightened One wasn't in a position to realize the kamist's trouble, anyway.
To the pile of izams to be sent, Haokan had added a letter for Gicha Cirinia*, asking one of their number to come and deal with her dear husband's excesses. Zhen had squealed against this abandonment, but it wasn't possible to manage everything in parallel. Once he was well again... he'd explain.
The hardest part had been telling the children. All the others were adults, the letters Feinigan had written beforehand would suffice (and the kamis knew what kind of horror he had written to some of them...), but the children... He'd gone to Crystabell's house, gathered them together, explained to them as soberly as possible, further resisting his urge to put on his helmet. He owed it to them to hold on, to show them serenity and stability. They'd cried a little, all of them, and asked awkward questions.
The worst had obviously come from Grigri:
- Can we see it?
- Born. It's not a pleasant sight.
- I can imagine, Wawa. But it's just... it's hard to imagine.
- We'll... we'll see, ukio? I'll have to take his body on one last trip, so maybe we can get together on the beach and those who want to can say goodbye before we go.
- Where are you taking it?
- I can't tell you, Grigri. It had something to do with his religious beliefs, but he didn't like the uninitiated to know about such things.
- The Dragon, pfff, I know. He said I'd be a high priestess too, one day!
- May the kamis save you from this fate... in the meantime, it's born. If you really want it, it'll be a ceremony on the beach, but that's it. And I don't want to argue any more.
Then he had to start all over again at Pyr's house, promising the children who lived there another ceremony at the Forge. The old fyros who kept an eye on them had taken him aside, before he left:
- You're going to... do what he wanted?
- I'll try, yui.
- I'm not in great shape to run and help you, but I can ask one of my little nieces to help you, for the Fire.
- It's just that...
- She's a pyromancer, someone reliable, who knows the Ancient Rites.
- No offense, Xymolaus, but I don't have a lot of confidence in... yours.
- Enough to trust me with kids, but not enough to burn a body?
- Neither... But I don't have much choice about the kids, and Feinigan trusted you enough for that, so I'll settle for that. The rest can't be that difficult.
- You've never lit a real fire, Zoraï. Much less mastered it. Take the help, if you don't want to start a new Coriolis... or end up looking like an idiot.
- ... I'll think about it. I've got other things to do first, anyway.
To the pile of izams to be sent, Haokan had added a letter for Gicha Cirinia*, asking one of their number to come and deal with her dear husband's excesses. Zhen had squealed against this abandonment, but it wasn't possible to manage everything in parallel. Once he was well again... he'd explain.
The hardest part had been telling the children. All the others were adults, the letters Feinigan had written beforehand would suffice (and the kamis knew what kind of horror he had written to some of them...), but the children... He'd gone to Crystabell's house, gathered them together, explained to them as soberly as possible, further resisting his urge to put on his helmet. He owed it to them to hold on, to show them serenity and stability. They'd cried a little, all of them, and asked awkward questions.
The worst had obviously come from Grigri:
- Can we see it?
- Born. It's not a pleasant sight.
- I can imagine, Wawa. But it's just... it's hard to imagine.
- We'll... we'll see, ukio? I'll have to take his body on one last trip, so maybe we can get together on the beach and those who want to can say goodbye before we go.
- Where are you taking it?
- I can't tell you, Grigri. It had something to do with his religious beliefs, but he didn't like the uninitiated to know about such things.
- The Dragon, pfff, I know. He said I'd be a high priestess too, one day!
- May the kamis save you from this fate... in the meantime, it's born. If you really want it, it'll be a ceremony on the beach, but that's it. And I don't want to argue any more.
Then he had to start all over again at Pyr's house, promising the children who lived there another ceremony at the Forge. The old fyros who kept an eye on them had taken him aside, before he left:
- You're going to... do what he wanted?
- I'll try, yui.
- I'm not in great shape to run and help you, but I can ask one of my little nieces to help you, for the Fire.
- It's just that...
- She's a pyromancer, someone reliable, who knows the Ancient Rites.
- No offense, Xymolaus, but I don't have a lot of confidence in... yours.
- Enough to trust me with kids, but not enough to burn a body?
- Neither... But I don't have much choice about the kids, and Feinigan trusted you enough for that, so I'll settle for that. The rest can't be that difficult.
- You've never lit a real fire, Zoraï. Much less mastered it. Take the help, if you don't want to start a new Coriolis... or end up looking like an idiot.
- ... I'll think about it. I've got other things to do first, anyway.
Note HRP
* Gicha Cirinia: Leader of the Illuminated tribe.