Unimaginative... unimaginative! Me!

Once the shock had worn off, indignation had set in. Habithi stalked away from the egg cavern, Terebinth and the pair of bird-faced hatchlings trailing along behind him, and seethed.

Anathema Scalesbane had come to the hatching. Not to adopt-- what need did she have to take in hatchlings, after all? if she wanted minions she had but to exert her will, and she had them, and if she wanted hatchlings, she had but to find a suitable mate. No, she had come to watch her son come away with a pair of hatchlings, and to turn one into another balespawn... not like himself, not like the children of the Demon, but definitely corrupted and aflame with balefire. And then to mock him. While he stood there, embarrassed, in front of the whole cavern full of Chosen, even in front of the lab witches from the ship.

Resourceful but unimaginative, she'd called him. Unimaginative! Habithi was more embarrassed than he'd ever been in his life-- even including the day he'd hatched and been forced to leave his bond's old home; there hadn't been as many witnesses then, and no one else had heard the horrible voice in his head that had made him leave. Oh yes, he was embarrassed, and he was working himself up towards being livid, as well, the more he thought about it.

"So are we going home now?" Terebinth asked sweetly behind him.

"Why do you even bother to ask?" he growled back at her. "You already know the answer."

"By that thought, my life would be bleak," she answered, "if all that I cared for were the answers I seek."

"Damn riddles," he muttered.

"I think she means there's something to be said for just asking," Ummor said diffidently.

"Yes, I gathered that," Habithi drawled at her, irritated-- were even hatchlings assuming now that he was incompetent or unintelligent? The black and red hatchling fluffed the sticky down-feathers around her faces, two of her beaks clacking softly, but didn't say more.

A few steps later, he stopped, turning to face the hatchlings while Terebinth sidled out of the way. It wasn't as if she needed to hear anything he had to say, since she knew it all already, rotten beast. "For the benefit of those who don't know everything already," he told Ummor and Quatan, "we're going back to Star City station now. That's where I live, and our current base of operations."

"Base?" Ummor repeated, six little ears perking.

He gave her an irritated look. "You don't honestly think I was signed up for that hatching because I like children, do you? Or because I was lonely?"

One of Ummor's side-heads whistled softly through its beak. "No."

"Well, good. Because I don't, and I'm not. I signed up here," he said irritably, "to get some decent support at said base of operations." He eyed both Ummor and the eerily glowing Quatan. Angry though he was, he thought they had potential, and he didn't want to alienate them like he did the last person he thought had potential. He managed to pull up something less than a scowl, though it certainly wasn't a smile: it was more of an appraising look. "Feel up to the challenge of joining my team?"

Quatan actually drew himself up an inch or two taller, balefire flickering a bit brighter as if in response, and all three sets of eyes were... well, he thought they were fixed on him, but with the glow, it was hard to tell. No matter what he was looking at, there was an obvious "yes" about him, even though he actually said nothing. Habithi wondered briefly if his mother had made him totally mute-- he hadn't even screamed when she'd corrupted him, but had she muted his mind, as well? Hell, he hoped not. What use was an entirely uncommunicative minion?

All things considered, though, having another balespawn around might do more good than harm, especially if he was working under him and actually respectful. And useful. Habithi had the feeling, though, that useful wouldn't be a problem. Quatan was small and silent, but only moments after hatching he had endured what would be the most painful experience of his life without so much as projecting a thought-- provided he was still capable; he did, at least, still seem capable of thought-- or emotion, or trying to get help. That had only been an hour ago, not even that, and he had recovered well. He had endured suffering and come out with, apparently, stronger resolve. That spoke well for him. His readiness to follow and general lack of any signs of untrustworthiness when it came to his new master-- well, so far-- also spoke well for him.

So did his attentive look now. Habithi nodded curtly and favored him with a smile, which made the hatchling's feathers fluff with what looked like pleasure.

"And you?" he asked Ummor, having accepted his answer from the corrupted hatchling.

Clicking one beak twice while another spoke, as if accenting her own words, she said simply, "I will serve faithfully in the way I best can."

And Habithi had a few ideas already. Really, Ummor had already shown that she was useful-- though he hadn't paid her a lot of attention, at the time, being too stunned by his mother's appearance and embarrassing display. But she had helped Quatan back to his feet, apparently heedless of the balefire but, he recalled, still deftly avoiding it without appearing to or even appearing to be afraid of it. She'd been a force to be reckoned with at the feeding tables, snapping her siblings away from Quatan with her sharp beaks and making sure her brother had his fair share of breakfast, despite his still feeling weak and woozy from the corruption and unable to really defend himself against food-stealing. Even a moment ago, when she'd tried to be helpful despite his foul mood, she'd been trying to prove her worth.

"We'll give some thought to what that way might be," Habithi smiled again, a little pleased despite being angry and embarrassed. He had three apparently loyal, apparently intelligent, and apparently useful new minions. They could use a little growing up, a little training and experience, and he could do with some adjustments to his planning, now that he had some idea of what he had to work with. All in all, it was not a wasted three months spent aboard the Fate.

Even if it was unimaginative.

::Was that really your mother?::

Aha, Quatan still had a voice. It didn't sound much different, either-- maybe a bit more subdued. And awed-sounding, now. Habithi sighed-- well, of course he would be awed; she'd changed his very make-up and hurt him a lot in the process-- and started walking again. "Yes. Anathema Scalesbane, goddess of corruption, in some circles." He knew there were plenty of pantheons out there that wouldn't recognize her, but she was powerful enough, he supposed, to at least have demi-deity status.

This time it was Ummor who commented. "She seemed proud of you."

It seemed imprudent to snort and make it seem as if he actually did disagree-- looking out of favor with one's own deity-mother was probably not the wisest thing to do in front of one's newly acquired minions-- but he did ask, without looking back at the hatchling, "What makes you say that?"

Ummor said only two words: "She came."

Oh. Well, he supposed there was that. Though for all he knew, she'd been stopping in to see her various other spawn, as well. Or had only come in to mock him.

Though she had called him resourceful, he admitted as they came out into the hangar, aiming for the teleport pads. Nuisance came bounding up to them, as if she'd been waiting-- maybe she had-- but he ignored her, though Terebinth smiled, Quatan watched with interest, and Ummor whistled invitingly at her. Resourceful, she'd said; that was praise, was it not? Even if it came couched with "not particularly imaginative". And then she'd put her own mark, her own corruption, on one of his chosen minions. She'd touched him, cooed at him: as embarrassing as that was, in and of itself, it was still a... mother-ish thing to do. Or as motherish as he ever expected out of his mother, anyway.

Maybe it wasn't quite as bad as he'd thought. Still embarrassing, and still humiliating, but she hadn't done anything to him. She hadn't destroyed anything-- if anything, she might've made Quatan better, he thought. She'd certainly made his presence on the Fate more remarkable and more memorable to anyone else there. And he was the only one coming away from that theurge with a green, balespawn gryphydra chick. 

All right, so maybe he was a little pleased that she'd come. At least no one would know.

Well, he amended at the sight of her doubled smug smiles as they all stepped onto the teleporting platform and gathered around for him to take them home, everyone except bloody Terebinth.

The last thing he saw on the Twisted Fate was her sickly sweet smile.

Chapter Fifteen

Back