Death by Ploot Ploot (3 page)

She was still breathing
so the look must have conveyed something halfway okay.

Soon Deana heard
murmuring dissent between the two men. It was followed by Traed taking up the
mantle of the carving by withdrawing Yaniff's Cearix and seizing the block of
wood.

"There,
Melody," she whispered to her sleeping baby, "Your uncle will give
you a proper xathu now. Your father has the best of intentions but does not
know the meaning of no can do." She exhaled dreamily. "Which is one
of the reasons why I love him so much. I’ll tell you a secret . . . "

She leaned back in her
wooden chair, palms resting on the sun-warmed slats as she stretched.
"Chances are you wouldn't be here if it wasn't for his impossible
stubbornness. But don't tell him I admitted that, you got it?"

Melody snuffled sweetly
in her sleep, far away in a peaceful dream. Deana watched her daughter for a
moment, a loving expression gracing her features.

"She is a beautiful
child." Lorgin had come up to her without her realizing it. It always
amazed her how quietly he could move. He was a big man. Tall and muscular. Yet
he could be silent and lethal. How much had he overheard of her embarrassing
confession?

"She
is perfect. But we are somewhat bias."

Lorgin negated that
idea. "Nonsense. We are very objective on this. Does not the entire family
say the same? My father believes her to be
the most
beautiful child ever to be born on Aviara. For all time."

Deana giggled thinking how
utterly infatuated Krue was with his first grandchild. He was spoiling her
horribly.

Lorgin's lips lifted at
the corners in a small smile.

"How are we going
to stop him from ruining her?"

He gave her a sly look.
He had a pretty good idea what would do it and it involved spreading the focus
of attention; but he would keep that to himself for the time being. "I
will think of something. You know, she looks very much like you."

Deana looked up at him
surprised he would say so. She thought Melody looked more like Lorgin. Her
daughter clearly had his eyes. "Do you think so?”

"Perhaps.
She has your hair."

"Poor girl."

He chuckled. "What
is this? I love your hair."

Deana rolled her eyes.
Only Lorgin would love a waist-length mess o' red curls. "Well, I still think
overall she looks more like you."

"Mmmm. She does
seem to have my
stubbornness
."

Deana's shoulders
hunched. Damn and double damn! He
had
heard her. She never got away with
a thing with this guy!

But that didn't stop her
from continually trying.

One might say it was one
of the cornerstones of their vibrant relationship.

“Go!”
she pointed in the
direction of Traed.

He kissed the tip of her
nose, his low laughter trailing behind him as he rejoined his brother. She
could hear the two men grumbling again as she went to sit in the shade. The
grumbling got louder as they ‘discussed’ how many teeth a xathu had and whether
a ‘mouthclaw’ was actually a tooth.

Apparently the conundrum
was resolved rather quickly as the grousing died down. She noticed that Melody had
woken up enough to crawl halfway down the platform to be near her father before
falling asleep by one of the flowerbeds.

The Tree carefully
shaded her so she would not burn.

The baby looked
positively adorable napping in the middle of the flowers.

Deana squinted her eyes
at the scene. It looked like a redheaded baby had hatched in the middle of the
flowerbed. She giggled.

A baby patch.

Hmm
. . . come to think of it, no one on Aviara has ever heard of Cabbage Patch
Dolls! We could make a
bloody fortune! And why stop there? Charl
Knights and oh-my-God Familiars!

Her fantasy of becoming
Aviara’s first action figure mogul was cut short as Yaniff arrived. He was
trailed by a disgruntled Rejar.

That
was quick.
What was up?

"We will conduct
your lesson here today, Rejar."
Yaniff
huffed, as he made his way over to the bench
and wearily sank down. With
a snap of his fingers he produced a small cloth and used it to blot his
forehead.

Deana prayed the old
dear wasn’t getting heat stroke. Did they even get that on Aviara? “Would you
like something cool to drink, Yaniff?” she offered immediately.

The wizard turned at her
voice. “Oh, Adeeann, greetings. Yes, that would be most welcome.”

She poured him a goblet of
fresh fruit juice from a pitcher they always kept filled on the side table.
“Rejar?”

The Familiar grinned at
her, gratefully.

Lorgin, only now
realizing that his house was being invaded on a day he had set aside for
leisure, bristled. He and Traed joined them on the main level.

“What mean you, Yaniff,
to give him his lesson here?” Lorgin's mouth flattened. "I was planning
on–"

"Good. We are in
agreement then." The old wizard waved his staff. "You might as well
partake in the lesson too."

Her husband fumed.
Loudly.
He was caught and one look at him said he knew it. No day off for Charl
knights.

About this time Traed
made to discretely leave whilst Yaniff was lecturing his students.

"And where do you
think
you
are going?" The old mage pierced the green-eyed man to
the spot. "If it is to be Lorgin's lesson, then surely you will benefit
from it as well."

Tread exhaled, rather
testily. "I am not your student. This I have repeatedly told you and I do
not have to-"

"All of you–
sit
."
The command came from Lorgin’s father, Krue, who had just arrived with his
wife.

The
brothers all sat.

Deana was impressed.
Nice.
Got to give it up to Pops Lodarres.

No one else could get
this opinionated bunch of testosterone to do what they wanted.

"Yes,
it is far too warm to expend energy arguing
over nonsense." Her stunning
'mother-in-law' Suleila agreed as she fanned herself.

"Why is it so hot
today anyway?" Deana asked. Usually Aviaran weather was a perfect 72
degrees and sunny. Except for the occasional light rain– but that was only when
it struck the High Guild’s fancy.

Deana bit her lip at
that thought. Weather manipulation was strictly forbidden by anyone other than
the High Guild. Lorgin had gotten into considerable trouble last month after
she had convinced him to produce snow. She had wanted to experience snowflakes
falling through the boughs of the Tree at night.

It had been so
beautiful!

But her poor husband had
to pay for it dearly the next time the council met. They forced him to
‘volunteer’ for a project he particularly detested: sorting the magickal books
in the High Guild library.

The
ancient tomes were scattered
everywhere
.

Old wizards never
reshelve.

Apparently, it had
really gotten out of hand. Since only fourth-level mystics and above were
allowed to see these books, much less handle them,
they had something of a worker shortage.

In other words no one in
his right mind would volunteer for the tedious task.

Lorgin
had been p-i-s-s-e-d.

She had tried to console
him with the memory they had of their night in the snow. Then spoiled it all by
grinning evilly at him.

He still hadn't paid her
back for that one.

"The Growers Guild
is trying to speed up the ripening of the
gharta
fruits." Krue
supplied the answer to the hot weather. “They were granted a two day heat spell
by the High Guild."

"Ah, it
is
so
much cooler up here." Suleila sank down and sprawled across a comfy limb
near the waterfall. A leafy branch began to lazily fan her. "Oh, that
feels so nice."

Krue watched his wife appreciatively,
his head slanted to the side. The Familiar woman was still incredibly
beautiful; even her most mundane movements were charged with sensuality. A wild
spark almost came into his keen eyes, but he
quashed
it as he turned to his errant sons.

His meet and greet to
them was his usual stern frown.

"Have you learned
nothing? Do you shame my line with this behavior? You will pay heed to Yaniff
and be grateful he is willing to impart knowledge to any
one
of
you."

Dutifully, Lorgin
responded first. "Yes, father."

"Mmmmm." Rejar
mumbled what sounded
almost
like a concession as he stared at the tree
trunk.

Silence
from Traed.

Krue arched his brow.
Waiting.

A pulse ticked in
Traed’s jaw. "If that is your wish, Krue," he finally spit out. It
was still difficult for the taciturn Aviaran to give in but he was learning
well to 'defer' to his new father-of-the-line.

Yaniff beamed and took a
slurping sip of his juice. Wiping his mouth off with the back of his hand, he
said, "Good. I want you three to seat yourselves by this waterfall. You
will contemplate it for a while. I shall join in your task."

Deana’s eyes rounded.
Why,
that old faker!
He
just wants to rest
in the shade where it’s cooler.

Yaniff winked at her. He
had heard her thoughts.

He held up his goblet
for a refill. When she bent over him, he whispered, "It is much too hot
for this old wizard to teach." He glanced slyly at Rejar. “But it is never
to hot for him to learn.”

She
snorted.

The
three brothers sat down cross-legged by the
pool.

"How long do we
have to contemplate running water, old man?" Always impatient, Rejar
wanted parameters to his torture.

"Is that all you
see?" Yaniff countered with his usual dose of wizardly mystique, certainly
imply
ing there was much more to be seen.

Rejar
rolled his eyes.
{He does not fool me,
Adeeann. He is
hoping I will 'discover' something thus
giving credence to his afternoon nap.}

Yaniff shook his head,
exasperated. "The first lesson in this for you, Rejar, is that you forgot
to shield that thought from me. Careless and impudent."

Rejar lips parted
slightly as he realized his mistake.

Yaniff's eyes, darker
than the darkest night, twinkled with what could only be called "old
wizard's glee".

"Second," the
ancient maze continued on, unfazed, "if all you are seeing is water you
are missing something. It is called a reflection.
Your own.
I suggest
you begin studying it in a more serious manner lest you go through life
ignoring a dimension or two!" He banged his staff for emphasis.

Ouch.
Score another one for
the older mage's team. Deana caught her husband's eye. As expected, the sheer
satisfaction of the moment was indicated on his expression. He was inordinately
pleased with his younger brother's set-down, as befitted an older brother.

Apparently with these
Aviarans one never ceased to be elevated in mood when the other received a beat
down.

"You will study
that water, Rejar, for as long as it
takes."
Krue responded sharply. He took a seat next
to his wife on the comfy
hammock-like limb.

Rejar’s head sagged
forward in defeat. Now that his father was here, there would be no sneaking off
when Yaniff fell into a nap.

Deana trailed her hand
in the water. "So, I take it you're all staying for the evening meal,
aren't you?" She flicked her wet fingers at Rejar who grinned.

"Well, it is much
too tiring to cook," Suleila
closed
her eyes and leaned into her husband. "Poor
Bojo's feathers are
molting from all this heat."

They all looked at the
winged companion atop Yaniff's shoulders. Except for Rejar who swallowed and
momentarily concentrated harder on the water.

Krue’s eyes narrowed.
His youngest son was acting in an oddly guilty manner. What had he done now?

At Suleila’s comment the
strange birdlike creature gave a pathetic little wheeze right on cue. A
mournful squeak for sympathy.

Deana pinched the bridge
of her nose. These people sure knew how to play her. Even Bojo was going along
with the plan, which was becoming clearer and clearer to her by the minute.
They all wanted to get out of the heat by resting in her tree! "Alright,
lets do dinner. But it is too hot to cook. Yaniff, can you snap your
fing–"

"NO!!"
Five voices rang out at once.

Oops.
Deana forgot that while
Yaniff was an excellent wizard, he was a terrible cook.