Yeva

With an exasperated groan, Yeva threw herself into her chair. Her sandals cluttered on the floor and an unfinished blueprint on the drawing table rustled under her feet. The meeting with Roxanna Inayat was a disaster. Well, it wasn’t — the relationship between the two Houses remained as cordial as it was before and Yeva didn’t blunder into anything unforgivable, but she had failed to impress either. On the contrary, it was the Kosenya Matriarch who came out as a victor in this meeting, much to Aikerim’s chagrin.

In stark contrast to what Yeva expected from a wermage of high standing, Roxanna was a magnanimous host throughout the meeting. Not only did she appear to be personally listening to every answer Yeva gave, but Kosenya Matriarch had kept the rest of her House silent and even tasked a nearby scribe to record. Only to nod with a polite smile at the end, offer Yeva some words of praise, and turn to Aikerim Adal to inquire about future orders of armour or chocolates.

A handful of innocuous and polite gestures and the meeting was no longer about Aikerim Adal’s mysterious Alchemist, but Roxanna Inayat’s gratitude for Aikerim’s previous gifts.

“It would’ve been easier if she wasn’t as healthy as a horse,” Yeva grumbled to herself. Alas, the Pillar Matriarch not only had the best food one could find in Emanai, but Sparks strengthened both the mother and the child. While Aikerim had planned a future presentation of Yeva’s delivery skills, she later confessed to Yeva that it would likely have no effect on Roxanna’s public opinion. The political lioness wouldn’t needlessly offend her healers just to gift Aikerim yet another favour. Not when the healthy birth of her next son was a matter of time rather than chance.

Yeva harrumphed and puffed her cheeks into a pout. It was galling to witness the lack of appreciation for the knowledge offered to them. More money was spent discovering those secrets than any of those Houses ever possessed. More days were spent than the combined lifetimes of every Matriarch. If not for Erf, they would continue using the bloodletting for centuries to come. If not millennia, since their ‘esteemed’ healers could preach their archaic methods for the entirety of their wermage lives. Yes, some of their practical spells were quite impressive — the mere ability to adjust the fetal position inside the womb with wermage telekinesis was unquestionably game-changing — but that didn’t make them all-mighty. Somewhat competent, at best.

“Just so you wait,” she promised to the closed door. “I wonder if I should make a chocolate recipe book? It would be quite a gift for whatever Kosenya healer comes crawling once Maya gives birth. That way they could mix something useful for once.”

The door replied with a knock.

Yeva took her feet off the table. “Let him in.”

Viter’s claws slightly pried the door open. “There is a… Ah? I mean, right away.”

A lanky Enoch stepped into her room with a wax tablet in his hands. Flicking one of his braids behind a well-polished horn and turning his head in a slight bow, he offered the tablet to her. “Master engineer. I would like you to see this.”

Yeva opened it like a book and brushed her fingers across as if she was ‘reading’ the scribbled lines on the wax surface inside. A set of punches for the press, designed to be used consecutively to produce washers from sheets of metal. It was a simple design but simple was good. It was also untimely, however. A proof of concept? “I see that you are beginning to notice the benefits of that machine. Well done.”

A bell tinkled on his horn. “I can forge a set of dies in a matter of days. Once all brigandine plates are cut, the stamping device can-”

“We are not making enough nuts and bolts to require such a quantity of washer production, yet.” Yeva closed the tablet with a clack and slid it back. “Our machinery is still predominantly fastened with rivets and nails and those have no need for them.”

The smile froze on his face but it quickly turned coy. “As a smith familiar with warfare, another use is known to me that can bring immense wealth to both of us. By using my family smithy, we can make every arm of Emanai speak our name for years to come!”

Yeva reached out for her bell and shook it.

His voice gained a tone of urgency. “Chain mail, master engineer. A good mail will have half of its rings made solid for additional strength and each shirt of mail requires thousands of them. Moreover, those shirts are worn by many. Even the Kosenya warriors will wear mail underneath the brigandines to keep their armpits and arms well protected. Your steel and my workers and die punches can dress entire arms.”

The door creaked again and Viter peaked in. “Mistress?”

“When Shahin comes, allow her to come in without pause.” Yeva paused and glanced at the Enoch wermage. “What is your name?”

“Merak Ulfa.” He regained his composure almost immediately and started readjusting his silken sash. For a smith, he was rather well-dressed but Yeva knew her workers well enough not to focus on such details. While Isra tended to live inside her workshop, other wermages chose to split their time and clothes between work and leisure.

“A second child?”

“My mother is blessed with many children. I am her third.”

Yeva nodded. “A son of a Domina, then.”

Some patterns were easy to predict. No matter how many oohs and aahs the Matriarchs would lavish on Aikerim and her ‘daimonas’, and no matter how sincere they were, none of them would send a wermage likely to inherit their family fortunes. The rest was up to the individual families. Large landholding Manors kept at least an heiress and a spare to themselves while smaller artisanal families usually kept just one.

“Indeed. Our vineyards are well known in Samat and beyond. Do you enjoy wine, master engineer?”

Her hand touched a potted sapling near her table. “Vineyards mean farming estates. Tell me, Merak Ulfa, does your mother grow wheat, rye, or barley?”

His sly smile was back once more. “The art of rustic living is just as nuanced as the art of smithing. The foolhardy seek fortunes in a single crop only to lose everything to an untimely drought or a sudden lack of products on the market, but the wise take a slow and methodical approach so that they can watch their fortunes soar through the centuries…”

He continued with his tale, confusing Yeva’s silence for rapt attention while her focus remained on the estate through the touch of her fingertips. Apart from the teachings of her late mother, Yeva received little to no education before her arrival to this Manor. Her former masters weren’t interested in teaching farming to a music slave, and slaves who did know rarely shared their knowledge with others. Skills were a prized commodity since they often meant a potential salvation from the worst jobs possible. Meanwhile, Erf’s chemical, biological, and agricultural insights were rendered useless once they met Emanai terminology. Merak could be quoting his childhood lectures in front of her and Yeva would be none the wiser. What was the difference between ‘oily’ and ‘fat’ soils, and why were they different from ‘rich’ ones? He could also be telling her something profound despite being a master smith by profession. In an agrarian society with the domineering land-owning class at the top, agriculture and land stewardship were seen as the noble professions. Someone of his status was likely well-schooled in those topics just as he would know how to cast his family spells, ride horses, and shoot werbows.

It was no wonder Erf kept mum about general agriculture, despite knowing how to grow grapes on comets. It was also why Yeva wouldn’t break that silence either, and why she wasn’t as excited about the mail rings as Merak was. Because what often mattered in Emanai was not whether she or Erf were right, but whether someone powerful or influential was made to be wrong. Shahin and the glass affair was a sobering example of that. It was also a valuable lesson. What made the Esca back off wasn’t the might of the Kiymetl Domina or her acquired knowledge of glass-making, but the special glasses they couldn’t replicate. Brigandines were well-received because they were the first of their kind within a luxury market. There were no other ‘brigandine-makers’ to slight and luxury armour-makers had plenty of customers anyway. For now at least. Yeva was certain that if they were to scale brigandine production into thousands, grumbling voices would arise as well.

“So your mother uses wine to bring her gold… and wheat so that she does not need to spend that gold on taxes and food. Tell me, Merak Ulfa, what do you think is the ‘wine’ of my estate?”

“Steel,” he replied immediately, leaning over her table. “And your other alchemical materials. Whether you are making brigandines, cuirasses, or mail armours, it is the quality of the base ingredients that makes them stand out. But it is through the skill of smiths that those armours become truly remarkable. That is why we are here, are we not?”

“Do not insult my estate,” Yeva replied, pushing her chair away from the table and the wermage. “Steel is my wheat and the armour-making is my way of paying the ‘grain dole in wheat rather than silver’.”

He stood back up straight as his tail slapped his thigh and Yeva suppressed a reflexive shudder, a remnant of her old life. “Whatever your ‘wine’ is, you’ve kept it well hidden from all of us.”

“Perhaps a lamura will illuminate you somewhat.”

“Who-” the door opened and his leftover words got stuck in his throat.

A very regal Shahin Esca entered the room with a glowing oil lamp in her hands. “Oh? My apologies, I did not know you had another visitor.”

Despite her words, Yeva could feel the smugness bubbling inside the lamura. Unlike the common Emanai oil lamps that consisted of nothing more than a clay or bronze pail of oil and a wick, this lamp had a tall glass chimney and a convenient wick adjuster. It was also as bright as five oil lamps, or even ten; bright enough to cast shadows in a well-lit room during the day. The clear heat-resistant glass chimney was crafted solely by Esca artisans — it was no wonder Shahin was feeling proud.

Yeva shook her head. “Viter let you in because I told him to. Tell me, Shahin Esca, what do you think is the true product of this estate.”

Shahin’s presence reassured and emboldened her. Dealing with the wermage ‘apprentices’ was now one of Yeva’s tasks, and while Shahin was also a wermage, and not a weak one at that, she was a known entity to Yeva. More than a known one — now that winter was waiting at the doorstep, Shahin refused to leave the estate altogether and spent her time between the glass kilns, heated lecture rooms, and Erf’s former sauna that she claimed as her personal quarters, much to the apparent envy and chagrin of other lamuras. If Shahin were to plot something, anything against the sadaq, Yeva would know immediately. If. Humbled and subsequently enticed by Erf and Aikerim, Shahin was likely to remain reasonably loyal as long as Erf maintained his power and the Esca clan kept benefiting from it.

“Knowledge,” Shahin replied and turned her gaze from the startled Enoch wermage to Yeva. “And the many forms it comes in. How did your husband say it? ‘What I make is not as important, what matters is how it is made and who makes it’. The what and the how. Barring that, there are the machine curiosities of his…”

“The machines that Aikerim Adal refuses to sell,” Merak finally found his voice. “An unsold product is no product at all, no matter how brightly it shines on top of a pedestal.”

The lamura looked back at him, curiously perking her slightly pointed ears from her lush raven hair. “Unsold? Have you forgotten why are you here, Merak Enoch Ulfa? Some things are not sold for mere gold, let alone silver. This is the realm of Dominas and Matriarchs; favours, not cuts.”

“And that is why the steel is only secondary to me,” Yeva inserted herself back into the conversation. “And why you call me a master engineer in the first place. ‘Master’ for my knowledge and ‘engineer’ for my machines. Nevertheless, your proposal has merit. If not for me then to you. An agreement can be made for the purchase of my sheet steel and time on my press when it is not in use for a fraction of your profits or at a specified upfront cost. Take some time to think about it and come back with a proposal. My material prices will mirror those offered to the rest of your House.”

While Yeva had no interest in specialising in medieval armours further, she had no desire to suppress initiatives either. She might even permit him to use the machines for free as long as he continued to supervise her workers during it and improve her estate as a result.

Merak cast a quick glance at the lamura, then at the bright oil lamp in her hands and gave Yeva a small but respectful bow. “Of course. I knew that this idea would spark your interest and I am sure it will ignite it further once you witness the inevitable results.” He picked up the wax tablet and stately left the room, leaving the two women alone.

“Should I expect a similar proposition for this creation?” Shahin’s eyes were now firmly on Yeva.

Yeva sighed and plopped her feet back on the table. “If you so desire. How about a fifth of the profit… No, that would cost you more in bookkeeping and accounting — how about a hundredth of the price sold and Aikerim retains the first rights of purchase in Emanai?”

“Something like an auction tax?” Shahin tapped her chin with a finger. “Why are you choosing to take this route and how are you planning on enforcing it? Esca will not condone a Kiymetl oversight over our sales. Not for a mere lamp, no matter how luminous it is.”

“Do you wish to pay a lump sum upfront? How much would Aikerim Adal ask for the heat-resistant glass recipe? And yes, those lamps can get so hot and bright they require that type of glass. I can’t chase every copper cut either so I will simply rely on the honour of Esca.”

“A lump sum might be daunting but it has a limit. Five years.”

Yeva nodded, expecting the retort. “Send your scribes tomorrow and we can have a contract written, sealed, runed, and sent to priestesses in a tenday. Now, what is the actual purpose of your visit?”

Shahin froze for a moment. “Please be careful with your words.”

Yeva rubbed her temples. “I am not trying to threaten you — but I also know that lamuras are getting twitchy for some reason while I have a thousand and one tasks to do otherwise. So let us skip the flowery language today.”

The lamura shook her head. “You misunderstand me, for I am familiar with the antics of you and your husband. That Merak Ulfa is not.”

Yeva furrowed her brows. “What about him?”

“Have you not noticed? His radiant khalat, his groomed horns and hooves? I admit, some males can be quite subtle with their intentions but he was making it obvious.”

“Well, I can see now why Erf acts so ignorant sometimes. Shahin… If Merak is naive enough to think he can saunter into my sadaq-”

“No, Zamindar Azrin would not send someone that stupid. I believe his objective was to see if you might be eager to receive a child from him that you and Erf can call your own. A wermage child without a claim, if his seed is strong enough. Do you remember my warnings that such offers would come eventually? They are quite sought after across Emanai, too, so his approach is not without reason. Many female wer join raids on the onset of their Heat, not to plunder silver or gold but the seed from captive wermages.”

Yeva grimaced. “Spare me the details. Does he think I wouldn’t have better offers?”

Shahin shrugged. “Despite your status, you are still without a child. Many consider that quite telling. This warning is about something else entirely — when I entered this room, I saw a surprise on his face despite him feeling my Spark approaching. And I am quite certain that surprise was caused by your recent changes. The way you speak and how you know of things happening elsewhere… or in the future. Some might start to wonder if your blood is only daimonic or if there is something more… And when they do, their offers — subtle so far — will become frantic and insistent.”

Yeva grumbled a few choice words under her breath and patted her slave medallion. “They will be forced to answer the wrath of my ‘master’, then. The one who spilt the guts of an enemy sheyda chieftain and recovered an entire mane of Emanai braids with a swiftness unheard of by Emanai Collectors. But they could act rashly if they stay ignorant — I will implore Aikerim to have them properly educated on… how to behave themselves around Erf. Your warning is appreciated, Shahin.”

Another thrum in her temples. A thousand and two tasks. The noosphere, despite being so impressive that wermages were beginning to notice, wasn’t without its limitations. Without a true AI to shoulder the brunt of the work, the cumulative mental load was crushing her head like a vice. A blunt constant pain behind her eyes that she wouldn’t numb because it was her final and only warning. But it was a price she was willing to pay. Her mind would get used to it while her Harald would adapt, grow, and conform. In the meantime, Yeva could preempt any untoward actions happening within her estate, whether it was petty thievery between servants or a wermage with questionable motives.

“And my kin will come to your aid if you require it. You know why Esca is here and so do we. That is without question,” meanwhile, Shahin could simply rely on her experience in reading people. “What makes my kin worry is a recent contraption your bronzesmiths are working on. While they craft individual tubes and components, the overall shape is quite familiar to us.”

Yeva hummed as she quickly parsed which artisans the lamuras were in contact with recently. “Your kin are worried about blowtorches? Why?”

Shahin sighed and coiled her tail into a seat. “Because it is also one of our secrets. Shaping glass requires heat, and spells are too draining to use on every creation we make. The charcoal supply in Yusuf is like dunes of sand with crests and slopes since wood has to be imported by sea. Blowtorches improve the work of our wer artisans and require little oil in comparison to charcoal furnaces.”

Once again, Yeva had to take her feet off the table. “Is this going to be another ‘you stole our secret’ song and dance?”

“Oh, how I wish it would be that simple, but no,” Shahin ruefully chuckled. “My kin worries that they will be seen by the rest of our clan as those who shared the secret with you.”

“Why would they think that in the first place? Or are you telling me that Esca still refuses to acknowledge the capabilities of my husband?”

Shahin shook her head. “You are assuming they are willing to seek the truth. Our clan is large as it is wide, with many families united under the name of Esca. The lamuras present in this Manor hail from two families and, apart from me and Amir, lack significant influence back home. As you can imagine, there are plenty of influential lamuras who refused to heed my words and now feel left behind. It is not in their interest to accuse you directly, but they can start rumours that we are sharing secrets of the clan for the benefit of a handful of families.

“Meanwhile, I have no doubt that you would improve the blowtorches. As I recall, you said the frozen air will be used to ‘make torches melt glass and steel’. Then there is your alchemical knowledge of fire and your spinning bellows.”

“Impellers.”

“Yes, those. Whatever the improvements you might use, they would only strengthen and solidify the rumours. Once they grow influential enough, demands for more concessions would quickly follow. Not to you — to us.”

Yeva tapped her index finger on the table. “I was under the impression that we were dealing with Esca in its entirety.”

“You can not please everyone, Yeva. Neither can I. Not everyone was willing to hear Amir’s words of reason and send their kin north at the behest of a lamura in Servitude. And those who did are unwilling to share their just rewards. Moreover, if you are willing to reward even those who did not trust you — what is the incentive for others to trust you at all?”

Yeva slumped in her seat. It was the same song all over again. “You came here with a proposal at the very least, I know that.”

The oil lamp flickered and an enormous fire snake slithered out of the flame and coiled around Shahin’s outstretched arm. “This is a worry for our kin. For Amir and I, this is merely an annoyance. A rough sea on the day of the departure, no more. Death to a fresh sailor, a challenge to a salted one… and an opportunity for a seasoned captain.”

At least someone was eager. “Go on.”

“An attack you know is coming is no attack at all. Especially if you have the time to prepare for it. And that is all I will ask of you. Treat it like one of your solariums, your alchemy workshops, or that huffing iron bull that spins your machines. Train your servants and let the knowledge of this tool stay deep inside the walls of this estate, let alone this Manor. And in the meantime, we will prepare.” The fire snake did a pirouette in the air and dove into the lamp’s flame. “This new lamp alone can earn quite a few favours for our families. Lenses, looking glasses, the knowledge of light… it is but a matter of seasons before the power balance will shift entirely in our favour. Before the ‘Erf-aligned’ faction prevails across Esca. Do you not think that would be the most beautiful outcome for all of us?”

Yeva shook her head. “When you speak like that, I always feel like I have to look for hidden daggers. Tell me about your blowtorches.”

Shahin blinked. “Is this a test?”

“It is a reminder of how little was needed for you to notice something happening inside Samat and this Manor. An offhand remark? A question that revealed too much? Erf was keeping his glasswork within these walls and you still caught his scent from across the sea. Or do you wish to be accused of not only sharing the secrets of a mighty blowtorch but hiding your ‘treachery’ from the rest of your clan?”

Shahin sighed. “The name itself tells you much… Then there are minuscule spouts and pipes that you are crafting already. The rest can be circumvented by the use of your ‘impellers’.”

Her answer was circumspect considering the topic at hand, but Yeva got what she was after. “You are using air nozzles to stoke and focus the flame of an oil lamp.”

The lamura gave her a subtle nod. “Once you used that name, your understanding was without question.”

Yeva used that particular form because one of the other lamuras used it before. A ‘blowlamp’ was indeed telling but lamuras weren’t using that word in public either. “Then the name would be the first to go. Not blowtorches but oxy-fuel welders and cutters.”

“Welders? So they are intended for metal rather than glass?”

“Yes, and that is exactly why I chose that name. To focus on the task rather than the tool. I have no need for glass blowtorches as I rely on Esca’s mastery in this matter, isn’t that right? I am sure you can use this statement to your advantage. I will also postpone the creation of other types of blowtorches as they are more tools of convenience rather than necessity. Even if they blow ‘oil’ rather than air, the concept is similar enough that your relatives might get suspicious.”

They were also rather simple to make. All that was necessary was an airtight container, a simple air pump and a heat exchanger near the nozzle to boil the pressurised fuel before combustion. A resultant portable flame spell equivalent would’ve impressed Enoch and Kiymetl alike, but they would copy the design as soon as they got their hands on the first prototype. It would be impossible to keep it secret for long.

“A flamethrower blowtorch…” Shahin murmured, shaking her head in astonishment. “That sounds like a goldsmith’s sledgehammer. But then again, a sledgehammer for a goldsmith is but a normal hammer for a blacksmith, and if someone can combine the fierceness of a flamethrower with the precision of a blowtorch it would be you and Erf.”

It was Yeva’s turn to blink. “Don’t tell me the flamethrowers are also one of your ‘secrets’.”

Shahin chuckled. “Maybe. But they are known to many. Friends and enemies alike. The contraption is rather simple but not every mixture works well, especially at sea. I assume that is how you are able to merge the two. What did you call it? The ‘oxy-fuel’?”

Yeva rubbed her chin in thought. “Maybe.”

For a nice, hot burn, Yeva needed fuel in a gas phase. They were easy to produce, but hard to explain and bulky to store. A bacterial culture or an algae strain to compost biomatter and bind carbon dioxide? That meant large vats, impossible to hide. Syngas? The production would depend on coal for coking and would require additional storage in case coke supplies ran dry. Acetylene? They didn’t have electricity for calcium carbide manufacturing. Using a dense precursor as a storage method and converting it into gas with a custom-tailored enzyme on demand had its merit, however. She would need to ask Erf about a good pair of candidates.

“I see you are enjoying it as well,” Shahin purred. “You no longer look like you bit into a sour fruit.”

“I would rather clear obstacles than deal with dilemmas. Adjusting my tools to solve particular problems in a specific environment, even a political one, is like a riddle. A handful of puzzle pieces I need to arrange into a single shape. Trying to prove that I did not lie about my medicine skills without summoning a horde of Collectors to my doorstep is a chore. You might find it enjoyable but I do not.”

Shahin tilted her head. “You pitted three Houses in this Manor against each other yet you worry about one?”

Yeva harrumphed and put her feet back on the table. “I said it was a chore, not an impossibility. I have my estate to run and grow, not other wermages to impress.”

“Then focus on the Matriarch herself and ignore the rabble. She is the only one that matters.”

“I already have my ‘master’ and his Domina.”

Shahin got up from her tail-chair and shifted toward the window. “Yeva… what do you know of Matriarch pregnancies?”

“Very important affairs.”

“More than important. Even if it is the birth of the seventh son.”

Yeva wasn’t aware of that particular detail nor did she talk about her trip before, but Shahin Esca had been an Envoy once and probably still was to a certain extent. Knowing such things as the number and names of every child from every Matriarch was expected of her.

“Not only is it a grand affair, but it is a private and cautious one. If a Matriarch dies or suffers an injury during the delivery, it might spell a complete change in House politics overnight. Meanwhile, a healthy child, no matter how far removed he is from inheritance, is but another proof of the stability and vigour of her blood and her Spark. I will not ask if you were met with withering gazes because I know you were. And yet, I heard that you were invited as a healer and not as a mere guest. That alone cost Roxanna Inayat some influence to pull off. She can afford it, yes, and her current position is as stable as it was before but people at the top do not reach the peak by throwing their gold or influence away. Tell me, how close did she allow you to approach her?”

“She allowed me to diagnose her condition and draw her blood-”

Shahin bent over in silent laughter, barely holding herself by leaning on a windowsill. “And yet you are worried about Kosenya Collectors? Do you believe that she is struck by some malady?”

“She is as strong as an ox.”

The lamurian tail rumbled on the floor. “Let me tell you something, Yeva! Ignore the naysayers. Ignore the glares and spits behind your back. Ignore their threats for they are nothing but words of the powerless. Because the Kosenya Matriarch, Roxanna Kosenya Inayat herself, took your side! I do not know what you or Aikerim Adal said to her for I was not there, but I guarantee that you can walk into their Pillar, demand the Kosenya Gestr, and a personal meeting with Matriarch herself.”

Her face, still crooked from a maniacal grin, leaned close. “And you will get it!

“They will play coy and wrap their replies in superfluous words, but you will get it. This is your current influence within their House at the minimum. Your level of respect, given to you by their Matriarch. You might not get much more than that, not without giving something in return, but you are not in a desperate need of their favours either. When you do need their favour or if they invite you once again — allow me to come with you as your aide. My presence alone will silence the voices of the rash while my knowledge and experience will help you navigate the hidden brambles of social expectations among the Emanai elite. Leave the tasks of an Envoy to me and be the Daimon you already are.”

An emphatic suggestion but a reassuring one. “If Aikerim Adal permits it, I will consider it.”

“She already has, more or less. Or she would have assigned to you another aide a long time ago. I also have no intention of losing my healer-to-be to some misunderstanding.”

Yeva caught her chair before it tumbled underneath her. “You are pregnant!?”

“No, but I will be eventually. And just like every mother before me, I will want the most competent healer by my side during that time. Especially as a lamura giving birth away from my homeland. Who else but you — a daimon healer, who drew the attention of a Matriarch with her skills just as easily as you brought back that child to life?”

“Fine! Cease your ‘daimon’ this, ‘daimon’ that talk!”

Shahin stilled for a second and tapped her finger on her lips as if in deep thought. “Can you help me find a nice man too?”

“Cough and Amalric will come hopping with a winter khalat.”

Shahin crinkled her nose. “I want a smart child…”

“Ask him to spray his seed onto a codex about philosophy, then.”

The lamura waved her off. “Aikerim Adal will not waste her unmarried sons on someone within her influence. They are too valuable for that. Besides, unlike Merak Ulfa, my child was pledged to you already with Aikerim Adal being a witness to that agreement. Do you wish for her father to be Amalric Karim?”

Yeva sighed, pulled her blindfold off, and observed Shahin directly. It galled her to sit here and deal with Matriarchs being Matriarchs while the rest of her sadaq was stuck in a bloody conflict, but Roxanna Inayat was a valuable ally as long as Erf, Anaise, and Irje were in the military, and likely beyond. Yeva had other matters on her hands that were just as pressing. She had samples to analyse, poisons to create, and wermage anatomy to figure out so that Erf could fight his enemies with ease.

Despite her jabs, Yeva was aware of how instrumental Shahin and her kin had become to her estate. Did they try to weasel out as many glass secrets as they could and constantly smuggled secret messages in their packages home? Absolutely. But they also kept the peace and made Kiymetl and Enoch apprentices toe the line better than Yeva could do alone. Who were smuggling their own messages and drawings as well. Erf saw that as ‘the cost of doing business’, while Aikerim had a separate shelf for each House, stuffed with detailed records of their clandestine deeds.

Yeva’s gaze slid from Shahin’s human torso to her lamurian tail. “All you have to do is ask and I will be your healer, that is without question. Having said that, I will admit to you without lying that my knowledge of the lamurian body is quite lacking. If you wish to receive the utmost level of care once you are pregnant, I would need to begin my duties as your healer much earlier than that.”

“You want my blood?”

“I will not subject you to the cursory examination I gave to the Kosenya Matriarch — you are too healthy for that. I am talking about the level of care I plan to provide for Anaise and Irje. Aikerim, perhaps, if she is willing. Some of it might not be pleasant but I guarantee all of it will be quick and painless. While I will make no promises on Sparks, I can deliver health and optimal growth. Moreover, my repertoire will only grow with my knowledge about your kind and with it — the benefits that you could receive.”

The lamura approached her with a soft scraping sound of scales on the wooden floor. “An offer like that? I do not think it is in my power to refuse it. But the optimal growth can not be done without the optimal seed…”

Yeva met her gaze without blinking. “Keep this offer close to your heart, impress me with your skills as my aide outside of this Manor… and I will consider the request you have left unsaid.”

A red tongue licked the full lips. “I want a strong son.”

Yeva rolled her eyes. “He can have curly hair too.”