And suddenly Tis was crying. The emotional winter was over. The final vestige of Blaise’s power over her had ended.

Sometime later, though not near enough later, Mark woke her. Illyana was a brilliant sea green bundle in the human’s arms. There was a smell of fresh sheets, and someone – probably Hastet – had brushed out Tisianne’s hair and dabbed perfume on her wrists. Her body seemed to be one big ache, with localized pains in her torn privates and her swollen breasts.

The reminder seemed to set off a telepathic alarm in Illyana. Tis read the hunger in her child’s mind and reached for her. Pushing back the blanket, she said, “I really didn’t get much of a look at her.” She flashed a nervous smile at Mark. “She was just so wet.”

The tiny little fists were waving now that the baby was free from confinement. The pink bud mouth was pursed and working. Tis lightly stroked a forefinger across the strawberry blond curls.

“She’s got a lot of hair,” Mark said. “Sprout had a lot of hair, but it was real dark, and it all fell out a few days after she was born. Weird.”

Tis pulled aside the neck of her gown, then looked guiltily at Mark. “Should I do this?”

“Go for the whole experience, man. I would.”

She laid Illyana against her breast, and the baby took hold. It hurt like the very devil for the first few sucks. Then the pain was replaced with a warm wonderment.

“What’s it like?” Mark asked.

“Like… dope,” Tis laughed. “Oh Ideal, Mark, I can’t…” She blinked back tears. “It was worth it. It was all worth it.”

Hastet entered. She was dressed for travel in a hooded thermal cloak. Jay slunk in after her. He had the air of a hound dog in doll clothes, though Tisianne thought the detective actually looked quite good in the Takisian clothing. Hastet had chosen well. She had attired both of them in the sturdy leather and wool of a rural couple. Jay stamped one booted foot, grimaced. “I feel like I ought to be in a yodeling contest.”

“Hey, I think you look great, man. That embroidery is really far out.”

“Madam.” Tisianne extended her hand, palm up. Hastet moved to her side, knelt, and pressed a quick kiss onto Tisianne’s wrist.

“Highness.”

“If my manner seemed churlish last night, I apologize. I can never fully express my gratitude, both on my behalf and my daughter’s. You shall be amply rewarded for your efforts.”

Eyes downcast she said, “The honor is to serve.”

From the flash of irritation which crossed Jay’s face, it was clear that the human resented seeing his lady friend on her knees to Tisianne. Abruptly he said, “Well, as the last of hippies here would say, we gotta blow this scene.”

“A few moments surely. She’s still eating,” Tis objected. Jay realized precisely what was taking place, and his eyes bugged in alarm. He quickly turned his back.

Tis stared down at that little head, the soft curve of Illyana’s cheek, listened to the complacent sucking noises, and an almost frighteningly powerful emotion shook her. There was nothing she had loved as she loved this child.

Shaking back her hair, she looked desperately up at Trips. “Mark, I don’t think I can do it. I can’t give her up. I have to be with her now.”

“Hey, that’s cool, Doc. We can just split with Jay and Hastet.”

“Oh, that’s great,” Jay exploded. “All of us squatting on that space station trying to thumb a ride home. I don’t think your cousin Zabb’s going to offer one after we fucked him over.”

“Shut up! Just shut the fuck up!”

The attack from Mark was so unexpected that it had the desired result. Ackroyd subsided.

But the cock fight had given Tisianne time to think. If she chucked it all, fled with Illyana, she could forget about ever recovering her body.

Maybe my love for you is tainted, selfish. But I must be myself again. Can you understand and forgive me?

Illyana, replete, sighed and opened her aquamarine eyes. And sent a burst of love and acceptance to her mother. Setting her jaw, Tis thrust the baby into Hastet’s arms. Dashed away tears with the backs of her hands, and throwing back her hair ordered, “Do it! Just do it before my resolve fails!”

And she was back in her bed in the women’s quarters. Roxalana shot out of a chair. A soft pop and Mark appeared.

“Tis, are you…” Roxalana began. Then she saw her brother/sister’s face. Gathering Tisianne in her arms, Roxalana rocked and soothed the distraught girl. “My dearest, dearest one. It will be all right.”

“I may never see her again!”

Roxalana held Tis at arm’s length. “At least she’s alive.”

Chapter Thirty-Two

It was a hell of a place to hold a wedding, with generations of dead Vayawand peering down from their glass condo tombs at the proceedings. They were all arranged as if for Victorian portraits – seated in chairs against attractive backdrops, but with one outstanding difference. They were all buck naked. Kelly would almost have preferred skeletons in rotting finery. It would have been preferable to this macabre audience of the stuffed and mounted dead.

At least the living attendees got to stay dressed. Kelly really couldn’t have gotten through the ceremony if he’d had to strip down. What kind of people hold a wedding in a catacomb? Kelly wondered. And what kind of people have the bride and groom spend the night together before the ceremony? He guessed it was designed to be a last chance for the prospective bridegroom to sample the wares and make sure he wasn’t buying a pig in a poke. Well, he’d viewed, he hadn’t sampled, and if he had his way, he was never going to sample.

Mon’aella sek Vanbrian sek Ana caught his thought and gave him her Lady Dracula smile. She’d already warned him that Takisians had drugs for everything. They could put starch in a wilting penis, and neither she nor Blaise would hesitate to mind-control Kelly and force him to perform. Kelly couldn’t figure it. Mon’aella was L’gura’s daughter, but she didn’t seem to give a shit that Blaise had killed her father. When Kelly had alluded to this, Mon’aella had merely shrugged and opined as how her father had lasted longer than most Raiyises.

The three members of the Ajayiz of House Vayawand approached the happy couple. Perhaps by virtue of the Vayawands’ long stint on the top of the Takisian political heap, they weren’t all old biddies. There were two old coots and a biddy. The old woman took Mon’aella’s hand and led her off to the left. The two ancient men each took an arm and propelled Kelly off to the right.

He was grateful for the support. He’d drunk most of the night, and he was now enduring the purgatory of a hellacious hangover. It took a long time to circle the room because they stopped before each glass cage and presented the couple to the ancestors.

Kelly hoped they liked what they saw. Blaise had decided to dude Kelly up in the Vayawand style, and the skin of his cheeks was still raw and puffy where green and amber jewels had been inset. Personally he thought he looked like a chipmunk on the morning after.

There was a moment of silence while everyone observed the form of waiting to see if any ancestor had any strenuous objections to the marriage. Kelly wondered if it would be really bad form for him to object. A glance over to Blaise, an arm around each of his wives, made Kelly release that lovely fantasy. His shattered arm and ribs had just healed. He didn’t need another “chastisement” from Blaise.

Kelly and Mon’aella were led to Blaise. They knelt, and he laid Kelly’s left hand on the top of her bowed head. Mon’aella touched her forehead to the stone floor, signifying her submission to her husband. Kelly knew that was a laugh. Eight hours in Mon’aella’s company had given him a pretty good idea of her disposition.

Blaise raised them both to their feet and kissed them. There was applause from the several hundred witnesses, and even the holocam crew. Blaise dug Kelly in the ribs with an elbow.