COUNCIL RELATIONS

Briarris

The situation wasn’t as dramatic as I’d imagined. The Broghen weren’t raging right outside our walls, with Ghen dying daily to defend us. In fact, the Broghen were taken so far south they were rarely seen again. And the only Ghen I knew who’d died on the wall was Rennis’s mate, Saft’ir, who killed himself after being attacked by a courrant'h. So we were told. I wondered now, but I didn’t ask. I’d had enough revelations.

Even if it wasn’t accurate, my idealistic vision helped me get through the shock of the birthing. I was back at work long before most new Bria parents. It also prevented me from falling into the complicated mix of guilt and blame that lay between most Bria and Ghen after their birthing. Igt’ur and I remained friends.

During my brief convalescence, Savannis, the Bria Voice of Wind, came to visit me. I’d never had much use for his advice, but I listened without comment as he explained to me the reasons for keeping the Broghen a secret from young Bria.

“How could you have mated and borne children if you had known?” he asked. “Our silence is meant to protect young Bria, not harm them.”

For the sake of my city I agreed to keep the secret, like every Bria parent before me.

I don’t know whether it was a tribute to my popularity or a punishment for stirring up the single Bria, but I was directed to handle Council Relations. I soon found myself in a meeting with Anarris, a Bria two years younger than I, who’d helped me raise supporters to attend Council for each of my motions.

“We’ve begun to organize ourselves,” he told me. “We call ourselves Single-By-Choice.”

The very name asserted their right to make a decision so widely disapproved of. I fidgeted in my chair. No wonder he was here looking to me for support; I’d started this. I could hardly tell him now that I’d changed my mind.

“We thought you might talk at one of our gatherings,” he continued, “about being forced to join against your will, in order to sit on Council.”

Breath of Wind, why had I spoken so openly?

“You’re a public figure, a respected leader of our people. What’s more, you always say what you really think. A rare trait in councilors.”

I wished it were more rare.

“We offer support to young Bria who are intimidated by the pressure they’re under to be joined.”

“Bria shouldn’t have to mate if they don’t want to,” I said.

But I was finding my younglings more delightful than I’d imagined, and didn’t really know what I still believed. I needed time to think it out, statement by statement: what felt right, what no longer did. What I could still say and stand by.

“I’m finding parenthood very compelling, right now,” I told Anarris. “I’m not sure I regret mating any more.”

His movements stilled. I knew what he was thinking.

“You can’t expect me not to love my younglings. But those who don’t want to join shouldn’t be made to feel they must.” Yes, that much I still believed, although I hoped he wouldn’t ask about councilors. Even if Ghen left Council, I could see now why Bria councilors had to be joined. I hadn’t even known what the real issues were before I birthed a Broghen. I was tempted for a moment to tell Anarris everything.

But there was a stubborn look about his face that reminded me of myself. I know what I would have done with that information; I’d have used it to further my case against co-habitation. I’d have blamed the Broghen on the Ghen—that had been my first impulse when I gave birth—as though it were a deliberate act on their part.

Anarris wouldn’t consider how such knowledge would terrify those already pregnant, or what it might mean to the future of our city if frightened young Bria refused to join. There weren’t many who’d willingly bear a Broghen. No, if Anarris knew of Broghen, he’d use it to strike back at those who were calling him “selfish” and “immature” and “irresponsible” for not joining. I’d received such comments myself for my youthful opinions, and I knew.

I hated keeping such a terrible secret. Nevertheless, I wasn’t prepared to see all my endeavors come to nothing in a few generations of frightened Bria. I wasn’t prepared to watch my city die, or to have my younglings grow up terrified of their future. Nor would the Ghen stand by, unconcerned. Breath of Wind, I didn’t want to think of what might happen if Bria refused to mate willingly...

Anarris was watching me intently. I realized my thoughts had disturbed me into stillness and resumed a courteous movement.

“I understand your position,” I said carefully. “If you need the help of a councilor, come to me and I will listen. I want to represent your rights when I can.”

He began to rise. He knew I was also saying, but I’m not one of you any more. “Can I call on you if Single-By-Choice meets with opposition?” he asked.

“Call on me,” I said, promising nothing. My moral compass had shifted and all my choices would be much harder now.

“I’m glad you’re serving as Council Relations,” he said as he turned to leave, “but not as glad as I was before.”

*

Ocallis grinned when he saw me coming, carrying my Bria babies while Igt’ur’s youngster staggered behind. Although we lived only a few houses apart, I’d seldom had time for my sibling before the birth of our children. He’d been busy himself, becoming an accomplished glass-blower, but that wasn’t the reason. We didn’t talk about the beliefs that had separated us, or what we believed now. Our children and the two little Ghen played while we drank cappa tea, and I rested from my thoughts.

“Look at him,” I said, amused as Mant’er’s child, Heckt’er, crept through the swaying grasses after imaginary prey.

“Mant’er is pushing him too fast. He’s just a baby,” Ocallis said.

“You’re not going to tell others how to raise their children, are you?” Ocallis’s comment made me uncomfortable. He’d opted to take time off while his infants nursed, only going into his studio occasionally to work on a special piece. I would have gone crazy taking care of babies all day. A little callan milk and the company of a watcher now and then wouldn’t harm my children or Igt’ur’s.

“No, but I worry. Mant’er says the forest has changed, and yet he takes Heckt’er into it so often.”

“You think the Broghen...?” My throat closed over the rest of my question.

“Of course not,” he assured me quickly, “they’re too far south. But even a mangarr’h could harm a one-year-old.”

I shuddered at the mention of the loathsome little creatures. They were too small to harm an adult, but they were predators. And like all predators, they bred in-species. It was obscene: you could look at a beast and not know from its appearance or behavior whether it was an infant-bearer or a fighter. Even worse, it might be both.

There are creatures where the differentiation between mating species is slight, such as the farmborra and the gock; both feathered avians whose wings we clip—but there the similarity ends. Gocks have clawed feet and knife-sharp beaks, which we file down for our protection. In size, in coloring, in behavior, there are other differences. As there should be, between a fighting species and a nurturing one. Predators, however, mate each other, disgusting as that is to contemplate.

“What does Mant’er think is wrong in the forest?” I asked. Mant’er was a good hunter—no, an exceptional one, according to Igt’ur. Ocallis’s worries about him taking Heckt’er into the forest were probably groundless.

“He says the game is becoming scarce.”

“Ghen might have to eat eggs and callan cheese.” We laughed together.

I might have said more, but Ocallis puzzled me. He showed none of the anger and betrayal most Bria felt toward their mates after birthing a Broghen. Only the knowledge that our younglings would never have been born without Ghen growth fluid moderated the resentment of most Bria. No wonder my parent had been impatient with my complaints when Ruckt’an returned to the Ghen compound. He’d probably been relieved to see him go.

Mant’er arrived from his duty on the wall and took his child away from playing with Igt’ur’s. Something had happened between them, but neither would speak of it. He turned away when Igt’ur came up to us.

I collected my two while Igt’ur tossed his squealing youngster onto his shoulders. I had never let him play with my children thus. I wanted them to find their own strength, right from the beginning.

Wasn’t that what Anarris was trying to do?