Doing the Necessary

Though from time to time, Silariel found it necessary as well as good practice to "harvest" from the creatures of her menagerie without ending their lives. This wasn't really practical, especially with the fast breeding species, but it was too easy to get out of practice here where it was all so safe. If she could sergically remove a portion of muscle and regrow it on the animal in her lab, she could, she reasoned, do so under more desperate conditions if she had too. And of course, everything has to eat.

She was just finishing up when Enyiel appeared in her doorway. He was as practical about such things as this as she and Etnamael could make him, so he didn't even blanch at the sight. But he did heave a big sigh. She smiled to herself. Her youngest was like a river stone: worn smooth, not blocking the rushing waters but not moving with them. She also knew that what was most likely cause of his current problems, the one who did move with the waters, and the one which moved him to hunt her out instead of his father, who was his usual confidant.

"Deroyen?" she inquired softly. It didn't really have to be a question.

"Mother, can self-shaping hurt the baby?"

Silariel paused. There were many possible answers that danced through her mind, but she decided to verify the obvious first. "Deroyen is self-shaping? Now? While pregnant?"

"Yes, can it hurt the baby?"

Oh, yes. "N-no, dear, probably not." She forced herself to meet his dove gray eyes and lie, "She's a competent healer, Medhei is an excellent teacher. She'll be able to reshape herself while keeping a stable environment for the baby. There is increased risk, but it's slight. Especially if done properly." She almost convinced herself. Almost.

"I don't have the confidence in her that you do, mother. She loves the attention of being pregnant, but I think it's the attention she loves, not the being pregnant! What kind of mother will she be?!"

"We'll see. In another year."

"If she doesn't kill the baby-my baby!" he punched his hand and paced quickly around the room.

Silariel averted her eyes. It had been so much easier for she and Etnamael. My poor baby, she thought, you deserved a good, easy recognition.

He stopped, "I want you to check on the baby, mother."

Oh, she turned to him, knowing there was nothing she could say that he would like. "That would make her very mad. I don't know if alienating her would be a good idea."

"I already told her you were going to. And I told Medhei what I wanted and she said it would be a good idea. SHE doesn't like it, mother. SHE'S checked on her, too, but she admits you are the foremost biologist in Skyhaven."

'Foremost biologist, now that was flattery,' she thought. 'And why would Medhei be flattering me?' There were several possiblities. Maybe she was truly very upset with our little protégé-the birthrate was very low and she was undoubtedly risking a miscarriage. And in addition, by turning the responsibility over to me, she was washing her hands of any problems Deroyen might create. When-not if-Deroyen damaged the baby, Medhei would be able to say Silariel was the healer monitoring it. After all, she was her first teacher and the baby's grandmother. And there was also the real possibility that she agreed with Enyiel's assessment of Deroyen's maternal instincts. Silariel had been a wetnurse before, and she was this child's closest female relative. Maybe she'd be lucky and Deroyen had made only superficial changes. But even as she thought this, she knew with a deep certainty that Deroyen was, for a change, the center of attention, and she'd be showing off. "And when will I be checking on her?"

"As soon as I got you to say yes. Medhei said."

There were three things Silariel changed in preparation for Deroyen's visit: modified the environment, banish her lifemate with strict orders to keep Enyeil occupied elsewhere, and reseal a bottle of Etnamael's finest mead, after slipping a strong sedative in.

She opened the small skylight above their chamber slightly, to let in a cold breeze, and stoked up the fire in the central firepit 'til it was 'comfortably' warm in their chambers. Anyone else would sweat, but that okay. She wanted Deroyen to sweat. It was planned to subtly put Deroyen in mind of their chambers when she had been Silariel's apprentice, not long after they'd left the Frozen Mountains. In those dark days, when she and Etnamael had missed their elder children who'd stayed behind and long before Enyiel had come along, their room had remained as much like their little hut huddled in the mountains as possible. It had served as a reminder to the younger elves, like Deroyen, that they were elders, survivors of the world. A reminder to Silariel herself, as well. Whatever came with Deroyen, it couldn't be worse than what she had come through before.

She was waiting, composed and prepared by the time Deroyen entered. The girl-she would always be a girl to Silariel, even after 6,000 years-was delicate and nervous-looking. It was that quivering nature that made her unappealing. And that was the only thing that identified her as Deroyen, that girl afraid of her powers. Her usual delicate, narrow features where gone, replaced by more full ones. Wide blue-green eyes had replaced her usual narrow hazel ones. Her short mouse-brown curls were gone. An extravagant plume of violet feathers shot up from the side of her head and blue and lavender feathered wings adorned her back. Her face and body seemed covered in a delicate creamy velvet.

"Very nice," Silariel said not stirring from her favorite spot near the fire. Privately, she thought, "Wings. The girl's been changing hard structures." This was serious, reshaping. Not just surface alterations.

"I thought you could only make surface changes?"

"Oh, that was centuries ago," she waved her hand in a studiously casual way. "When I was your student. I've improved since then."

"Medhei is a fine teacher. But I'd heard that you said more of your magic has awoken with this pregnancy."

"Oh, some." She sat down on the opposite side of fire pit, "To be honest, people just assume that they must have, since they all assumed I couldn't do such things before."

"Why did you never do this before?" If you could, Silariel didn't end the question.

Deroyen shrugged in a long, casual gesture, "I suppose… I did, but no one ever noticed."

'She's lying,' Silariel thought, 'And such studied ease, she has been working hard this last year, to reinvent herself as the popular one.' She decided that flattery would be an interesting first move. "Medhei is worried," Silariel smiled slightly, "she's hard to impress, or distress. So you have been noticed now, Deroyen."

She shrugged again, but Silariel had seen the happy gleam in her eyes. "I'm doubtless worrying you too, or I wouldn't be here."

"Enyiel is worried. Worrying is all a father can do. He asked Medhei, she checked you, I'm told. I'm the second opinion, that she wanted."

"Do you think I could be hurting the baby?" To the point! Silariel hoped the surprise didn't show on her face, she wanted to give nothing away to her former pupil. There had been a time, not long ago, when Deroyen would never have gotten to the point so quickly. Always afraid of hurt feelings, others and her own.

"Well," Silariel found herself hedging, "if you don't know what you're doing, definite-"

"I do know what I'm doing."

"I have no doubt-"

*I do know what I'm doing.* Can't lie in a send. No doubt that was suppose have settled the argument.

*Lying in a send isn't possible* except when it is, *but if you believe you know what you're doing than your not lying--*

"I've heard this from Medhei!" She stood up and began rearranging her sheer rainbow-colored robes in the heat, "Do you really think I'd endanger my baby?! For what?!"

For popularity, for attention, Silariel bit her tongue and sent carefully, *No one believes you intend to harm this child, Deroyen. But with so few being born these days-and they have little enough to keep themselves occupied these days.*

"Get it over with, then," Deroyen stepped over in front of Silariel, gesturing toward her belly, *I don't enjoy your company, Old Teacher. The sooner your curiosity is satisfied the sooner I can get back to my friends!"

Silariel rose, "In a moment. I haven't ate yet. Eat with me. You may not like my company, but I miss yours." She moved over toward the table, where some fruit and the special mead was waiting.

Deroyen followed with a petulant expression. So changed, Silariel thought. When she and Enyiel had Recognized, Silariel had been almost happy. Certainly Enyiel hadn't been pleased. But Silariel had seen hope, that her youngest child, her quiet homebody, might come to terms with Recognition to the nervous, frightened girl. They could have been perfect for each other-might have stabilized each other, brought out each others strengths. But Enyiel had reacted with uncharacteristic anger whenever she or Etnamael had even suggested such a thing. Slicing the fruit, Silariel glanced over her shoulder at the angry girl and had an inkling at what her son had found locked in Deroyen's mind that made such a thing so unthinkable. She tapped the bottle with the knife, *Poor the mead, child.*

She snatched up the bottle, *I am not a child.*

"No, of course not. But you are to me."

"I'm closer to your age, then to your son's."

"Yes," Silariel smiled. "He's a child, too." She held out a glass to the girl and took a long swallow of the sweet wine. It was as delicately flavored as Etnamael's meads ever were. "He's playing with herbs again." She said, looking at the glass. "I think this one's got chamomel in it."

"Etnamael's meads," Deroyen sighed, delicately sipping from her own glass. "Those I have missed."

"You were always welcome back here. And still are."

Her heart had opened slightly toward the girl, but the scowl her words brought to her face froze that over again. "Welcome to live in the shadows? To live alone, isolated, in a palace full of elves?!" She held up the glass, "To be able to brew such wonderful things, and dream such wonders, and share them with next to no one?! To be quiet and unnoticed and unimportant, like you and Etnamael," She downed the contents of her glass, "I would rather die."

Then dramatically, she nearly fell over backwards. Silariel caught her arms, to slow her decent and make contact for healing. She had taken the girl by surprise. Her own healing had begun already, clearing the fast-acting sedative from her bloodstream. But already, Silariel was closing in, not on her abdomen, but on something far more ethereal, she was looking at the fundamental things in the girl's blood that made Deroyen Deroyen. Medhei must have sent the girl to her for a reason. She could sense from across the room that there was something unstable in the girl's shape, something in these fundamental things had changed and the baby was now being rejected, as if it wasn't Deroyen's daughter.

Deroyen was crawling backwards, trying to raise, but her new wings inhibited her movements. She knew what Silariel had done, must have been planning from the start, and her sending slashed into Silariel's mind viciously. Pure hate and fury danced like embers on ice in her mind, while the girl's healing turned from her own her own body to Silariel's, shredding muscles and bursting arteries. This she had expected. She know Deroyen felt confident that she wouldn't strike back a her-the baby was her protection. It was that confidence, that coherent thought beneath the fury, that Silariel headed for. She had to get the other place that made Deroyen Deroyen, the even more ethereal place, her soulname.

Most of her own healing, she used to keep herself alive in the face of the girl's attack, blocking her own pain and inflicting terrible pain on the girl's nerve-endings. Even this non-damaging pain could injure the baby, especially in Deroyen's condition, but she had to keep her distracted, while she forced herself farther into the girl's mind. She was Zeh, she was far stronger, far more stubborn than this mere girl, she was sure. And she wouldn't lose, she couldn't, the baby needed her protection.

Deroyen knew by now what she was doing and she struck back mentally. That opened the door Zeh needed, and for a brief moment, like Recognition, like soulmates, they knew each other. And Zeh was the stronger, made cold and hard as glacial ice, old since childhood and willing to do anything she had to do to keep her family-her children--alive. And Deroyen-Ou'reh-was still a child despite her sheltered millennia, needy, neglected, insignificant in her own opinion, and she truly did not care about the baby. It had made her popular, it had awoken more magic, but she resented it because she know it was not for her that others were paying her this new-found attention. And she knew what was going on with the baby, that her changes where coming closer and closer to miscarriage, but she simply didn't care. Zeh broke off the link first, and felt Ou'reh's surge of victory. But she still had far more healing magic left-the girl's attack hadn't been planned, so it had been wasteful. She easily stopped and burst Ou'reh's heart and while the girl fixed that, Zeh crawled back, as a large wicker basket floated up and overturned over the girl. Mounds of wrapstuff poured over the girl.

Silariel eased forward again, aware that she was blocking a great deal of pain from a great deal of damage, and packed the wrapstuff down tightly. This was her favored form of anesthesia in the menagerie. She'd started using old cocoons after a preserver had almost been eaten. Enough wrapstuff, and the sleeping effect would take hold, weather it had just come out of a preserver or not. And better no preserver know what had just happened. She fell off to the side and rolled away, unable to do anymore than lay there and heal herself.

"You have been to see the future grandmother, I assume," Medhei inquired, as Deroyen entered the throne room.

Silariel was already a grandmother at least 3 times over, but Deroyen didn't bother to correct her Mistress and tutor. She smoothed her sheer, silken gown down over her barely-visible belly and ran a hand over her short mouse-brown curls, before answering. "My Mistress," she pronounced each word carefully as if cautious, "Silariel did… find… well, she was most thorough," a small, nervous chuckle rippled through the gathered elves in the court.

*No doubt,* Medhei's loud send silenced the court, though she seemed as amused as the others. *And why have you gone back to your old shape?*

"I had to, my Mistress," she clasped her hands tightly before her. "Silariel… was very… thorough." She met Medhei's eyes briefly, but only for a second, "Silariel… looked at those elements in the blood that make each of us individual. Altering my form during the pregnancy was altering my body's hold on the baby. The farther I took my body got from that of the baby's, the greater the chance my body would regard the baby as a foreign entity and reject it. I was coming increasingly closer to miscarrying, and there are already too few babies born. She helped me back to my original form and I won't be changing again, until after she arrives."

Medhei nodded, "I think that's wise."

"There is more," the girl glanced quickly around and then glued her eyes on the floor. "I mustn't exert myself needlessly. My body's hold on the baby is still very tedious. I must maintain a light healing trance, or I may yet lose her. Silariel has volunteered to care for me during this time. She once took care of Dimina's mother, Naera the Gone, who was in far more helpless condition than I am. I intend on moving into Enyiel's old chamber and not doing much of anything, except concentrating on this child," she ran her hand over her belly again and bowed to leave.

"Don't worry, Deroyen." Jazael stepped forward and patted the girl's arm, "You'll not be bored. We'll come and keep you company."

Deroyen smiled and began healing her belly slightly, "I appreciate the offer, truly. However, any exertion could cost me my baby. And in truth, I intend to use this time to get to know myself better. But I would greatly appreciate help back to Silariel's chamber. I'm getting abdominal pains again. I've had them often enough, lately, but before I ignored them."

"Oh, dear," Jazael gave a quick curtsy toward Medhei and helped Deroyen away, oblivious to the odd expression on their Mistress' beautiful face.

Etnamael met them at the door and together they helped Deroyen into Enyiel's old room. "Been dusting it for you," Etnamael said.

"Thank…you," Deroyen said between clinched teeth.

"Where is Silariel?!" Jazael's delicate brows were knit together in concern. "She's in a great deal of pain, though she's healing herself."

"She'll be here shortly," Etnamael led her away with great difficulty, "It'll take a subtle combination of healing and time to put things right. But come away, don't brake her concentration. If there is one thing I've learned over the years, it's how to put things in place for a healer to do her work."

She lay in the darkened room listening to Etnamael and Jazael's voiced fade away. Then Etnamael returned, his shadow falling across the room from the doorway. She wondered if he know what had happened, but was afraid to ask. What if he was disgusted by her? She felt another surge of pain though her abdomen in response to her soul's ache. What would Etnamael think of her? She couldn't hide this from him-she could hide nothing from him!

"How do you intend to hide this from Enyiel?" he finally asked.

He knew. But what did he think?! She found herself trembling in fear, that he might never think of her the same, that she might have destroyed the most precious thing she had ever known.

"Silly question, they avoid each other already." He saw she was shaking and crossed the small room to sit down beside her on the bed, gently stroking her arm. He was silent for a long time. "I suppose this was necessary," he said at last.

She nodded, unsure of weather she could share memories of such terrible deeds. A part of her wanted to protect him. But when his mind touched hers, her resolve faded; she could never deny him anything. Silariel opened her mind and the whole thing poured out between them. Etnamael leaned over onto her, stroking her-Deroyen's-hair. "It was necessary," he said.

*Was it?* she was too tired to even speak. She had never been so exhausted in her life, not even in the Frozen Mountains. *Maybe… Maybe if I'd left her wrapped up longer…*

His mind touched her newly shared memories. Deroyen had had strength, in her own way. In time she may have grown up and became… strong in character. In the eternal youth of Skyhaven, she had become only stubborn, not strong. She had set her mind against Silariel. She would die before going back to her own shape, before letting Silariel win, she would take the baby with her. She was stubborn enough to be strong, but she had only Silariel to lock her will against. It had not been an easy decision, but she would have sacrificed the baby for the strength to fight Silariel. So Silariel had killed her. Burst blood vessels in the section of the brain that controlled magic. Cold but a quick death. Harder had been altering her own body into Deroyen's, but it had been done very thoroughly. Perhaps the baby could detect the difference. Certainly the exchange had been traumatic on the baby. But for the next year, she would at least have a stable environment. Then 'Deroyen' would die in childbirth, and Silariel would raise another grandchild. And deep inside, she ashamed to be secretly thrilled. Another daughter. A girl, like long lost Aleonra. Had she been more willing to kill Deroyen because she would happily raise the baby?

In the darkened room, Etnamael caught the unsent thought and kissed his lifemate's forehead. *You did what was necessary,* he sent.