Red Dirt

Ficlet on family, parenthood and peacetime.

Daine had been teaching the rider recruits for half of her life. It was unusual for them to ask her any questions which she could not answer. That was why, when she asked Numair for his advice, her husband knew there was a serious problem.

Daine tried to explain.

For a few years after the war all of the new recruits already had their share of scars, or they had close friends or family who had suffered at the hands of immortals or Scanrans. They knew what it was like to live in a land where death stalked unchecked through every home, and they understood that safety meant knowing how to fight. It was just how their lives had always been, and as recruits they took their training very seriously.

But now... these recruits were different.

They had been children when the war was at its worst. Their parents would have wanted them to sleep soundly, because even when the world was full of enemies protecting children from the horrors of their own imaginations was essential. And so these children were comforted with stories about the great heroes of the war. They had heard about the men and women who were fighting to protect them. They had heard about the Lady Knights – the Lioness, with her fiery temper, and the Mindelan knight who had so fiercely protected Haven from the killing machines. They had heard about the Giant Killer, the Black Mage, the Wildmage and their king, who wielded the Dominion Jewel.

They had heard all of these stories, and then they had come to the capital city with their heads full of dreams. You could see them, wandering around with wide eyes and staring at everyone whose eyes held the tell of battle, wondering if they were... if they might possibly be...

The worst ones were sent home quickly enough, but even the ones who weren't here for the stories still had an odd idea of what they were really fighting for. War, to them, was something which brought glory, or respect, or honour.

"To them it makes sense," Daine finished, and sighed. "But it doesn't to me. I don't know how to explain to them that... that for most of the war I felt like I was clinging on by my fingertips, desperately hoping my friends were still alive. How can I tell them that? They won't believe it. They won't understand it."

Numair nodded. It was something his own students had also begun to struggle with, too. Unlike his wife he had found a way around it, but up until now he had evaded explaining what he had done to suddenly fill his students' minds with bitter awareness.

He wasn't particularly proud of the trick, but it was needful. When Daine asked if he would teach the riders the next morning, he thought for a long time and then agreed.

"Bring Sarralyn, too." He added, glancing towards the room where their eight-year-old daughter was sleeping. When Daine looked like she might object, he stopped her. "No, she's already asking questions, and you know how clever she is. If we don't explain now then someone else might do it for us, and you know the sort of nonsense people say."

"That doesn't mean she'll understand, or that... she's too young, Numair."

"She's not a number."

"You know perfectly well that's not what I'm saying." Daine scowled at him. "I asked if you'd teach my riders – not our daughter. She already has nightmares after hearing about Carthak..."

"That's exactly my point. She's heard so many things about the war, but to her they're just nasty stories."

"She has nightmares about her da being executed by an evil emperor." Daine snapped, and then sighed and added, "And so do I, now I think on it. That's not a story to either of us."

He kissed her forehead sympathetically, but it was clear that he was utterly unmoved by her argument. "I want to protect Sarralyn, and the best way to do that is to be as honest with her as we can be. We agreed that, didn't we? I don't want to spend her childhood lying to her about the world being a gentle place."

"Her world is." Daine sounded mulish. "That's what we fought for."

"Sooner or later, her world has to reach outside of these doors, and she has to be ready for that. You found out the truth in the worst possible way, love. I don't want there to be any chance that Sa goes through the same pain that you did."

"Stone walls don't burn." The woman said sharply, and then got to her feet. When her husband caught at her hand she shook it away, and then smiled apologetically. "Let me go. I'll think it over."

It didn't take her long to calm down, and even less time to think once her head was clear. Daine walked slowly back along the dark corridor amusing herself with the thought that if their roles had been reversed, she wouldn't have seen her husband again for the rest of the night. It wasn't that she thought more quickly than Numair, it was just that with these kinds of choices she made her mind up and her stubborn nature refused to back away from the decision. Numair, on the other hand, argued with his own brain as a hobby.

She opened the door to their rooms and smiled at the sight of the man gently rocking one of the twins back to sleep. The toddler was dozing, but every so often his eyes would flicker open and he would make an odd sobbing noise.

"Rikash had a bad dream." Numair whispered when the woman kissed his cheek in greeting. Daine smiled and touched her son's fleshy arm. He cooed, caught in some nicer story, and his mother resisted the urge to laugh. It was still so rare for all three children to sleep through the night that it was wonderful to see that the baby had settled back down so quickly.

"We'll need to ask someone to watch them for us tomorrow morning," she murmured, "T'kaa might do it, and he wakes up early enough to ask." When the man glanced at her she shrugged. "Well, I think you're right about Sa, but since the twins are barely old enough to talk I'm fair certain they're not coming along."

"In a way, I wish they were old enough. I don't like having to do this more than once," Numair shifted the boy to one shoulder with the ease of long practice. Daine bit her lip.

"What is it that you do? I'm sure I could do it on my own, if you told me..."

"No." He shook his head vehemently. "I don't want you to. It's not that it's bad, but every time I do it I feel like such a... ugh." He shook his head again and rose to his feet, disappearing into the twins' room to put Rikash back to bed.

Daine was secretly glad that she had made the twins play the 'tidy-up game' that afternoon, because otherwise there would have been wooden blocks all over the floor. Numair was far too caught up in his own thoughts to watch where he was going.

"I did ask you to do it," she pointed out when he returned. "So it's not like you should feel bad."

Numair smiled a little ruefully and sat beside her, absentmindedly looping his arm around her shoulders. "It's more of an ethical quandary than a logical one, honestly."

"And that means...?"

"That... they'll feel bad tomorrow, so they won't get killed later. But they will feel bad tomorrow."

"Oh."

"And it brings back memories, too." He admitted this part more reluctantly, and glanced at her. "If you're going to be there, you should be ready for that."

"Of course I'll be there." She said with some energy, and then yawned, which spoiled the effect a little. "What is it about sleeping babies which always makes me want to go to bed?"

He tweaked her nose. "Habit? We know they're not going to wake up for a while."

"Gods willing!" She raised her eyes dramatically to the heavens and grinned when Numair laughed, since the movement made her lose her place against his shoulder. "Well, I guess if you're right we should make the most of it. I can't remember the last time it was just us."

"What did you have in mind?" The man asked. Daine thought, and then shook her head with a defeated laugh.

"Do you know, I can think of a thousand things I need to do, but I think I've lost the trick of thinking of things I want!"

"Well, you said you wanted to go to bed," he suggested, and there was a heated note in his voice which made Daine shiver. He felt the movement – of course he did, he knew her far too well to miss it – and when his wife raised an eyebrow at him he tried far too hard to look innocent.

"Oh, is that your idea?" She asked, and slid her arms around his neck. "Because, mister mage, maybe I meant that I was tired..."

He kissed her nose, drawing her slowly into his lap. "Are you tired, Daine?"

"I'm waking up," she murmured, and stopped his answering laugh with a fleeting kiss. "Numair, unless we're going to have two very awkward conversations with Sa tomorrow, it might be better if we actually went to our own room."

"You're doing that talk, Miss Midwife's-daughter."

"Mistress," she reminded him, and rolled her eyes. "Gods, all those years of pestering me and now you can't even remember that I'm married!"

"You are? You never said!" He caught her up in his arms and looked down at her in mock-horror. "Who are you married to?"

"I don't want to make you jealous," she cut her eyes up at him, trying not to laugh, and ran a finger along the line of his jaw, feeling where skin turned to stubble. "Well, he's got black eyes and black hair, and lovely tan skin like he's spent all day in the sun, even though he's always indoors reading, because he's clever, you know."

"Hm, doesn't sound like anyone I know..." Numair looked thoughtful as he carried her into their room and quietly closed the door. Instead of setting her on her feet, he sat on the edge of the bed and kept holding on to her, his hands strong on her back. "What else is he like?"

Daine pretended to think, and squeaked in surprise when he stole a rapid kiss. It made it difficult to find words, which (she was sure) had been his intention, given the amused expression he was wearing. She quickly edited her thoughts. "Uhm, he's tall and strong and kind and very handsome. I mean, he's not perfect. He can't ride a horse right, but I love him so much I don't tease him about it as much as I should."

"That sounds more familiar," Numair rubbed his nose against hers. "And I'm sure he's very grateful for your restraint."

"I'll ask him when I see him." She promised, and suddenly lost interest in the game. "I've missed this."

"Me too." He brushed a curl away from her eye and kept his hand there, palm warm against her cheek, fingers gently tracing the shape of her face.

Daine closed her eyes and leant into his caress, nuzzling against his hand. He was always so gentle, and since quietness was so rare in their lives it was the one thing which made time seem to pause. She knew full well that he was stronger than her, that if he wanted to he could close her in his arms and kiss her until the fire was the only thing that was left, but he never did.

And so she held her breath, and wondered if time really did stop for this. She could be eighteen again, feeling and learning all of this for the first time, or twenty-two where his touch had been the only thing comforting her in the long hours of her first labour. It didn't seem any less likely than to be twenty nine, still cherished, and still worth that gentle, loving slowness. She sighed and turned to kiss his palm, breaking the spell.

"Sweetheart," the man murmured, surprising her with the sincere question: "Are you happy?"

"Don't you know?" She smiled, thinking it was a joke but not understanding why it might be funny.

"I know you're tired. You won't tell me, but I know it." He was quite serious, "And you are right. This shouldn't be one of the things in our life which we miss, and I hate that we do. We both work so much, and when we're not working we're running after the children, and so we hardly ever spend time just being together anymore."

"But if you want to waste the time we do have making speeches..." Daine started, and he rolled his eyes at her.

"I'm not just talking about sex, Daine." After a moment's rapid thought he added, "Not that I don't miss having you all to myself, mind."

"You never did," she smiled ruefully and kissed his nose. "Before our little tribe there were the Scanrans, and before that all the immortals, not to mention those months having to be very secretive around our friends. Back then we thought being alone was finding a dark corner in whatever fort we were sent to and hoping like hell nobody heard us."

He smiled slowly, mischievously. "I remember. Exciting, wasn't it?"

She couldn't resist that smile. With a quickness that made him gasp out a laugh, she turned in his lap and kissed him. Before his hands could fix more securely on her back she shifted her weight, pushing him down onto the bed and pinning his shoulders down, straddling his waist so he couldn't sit up. He stared up at her, loving and breathless and flushed, and Daine leaned closer.

"It's always exciting, love." She breathed, her voice rich with promise. He shivered, and she lightly caught his lips for a moment. "Do you want me to show you why our bed is so much better than a dark corner?"

"Gods, yes." He reached up a hand and caught her, drawing her back down for another, much more heated kiss. Daine trembled, feeling for a moment as if all her limbs had turned to water. When she melted against him Numair let her fall, catching her in sure arms to lay beside him, entwined.

"I'm not sure I approve of you changing the subject." He breathed in her ear, and Daine giggled and looped her leg around his. The heated note in his voice changed, and with laughter he added: "But I definitely approve of how you're doing it."

"I'm happy." she said tartly, and started teasing the edge of his shirt up from his waist. "There. Is that enough of an answer to drop the subject altogether?"

"I might hold out, see how else you're planning to distract me..." he stopped teasing her with a gasp when she grinned wickedly and moved her thigh between his legs, pressing firmly against the ridge of flesh there and then moving sinuously against it. Choking back a moan, he tangled his hands in the woman's hair and crushed his lips to hers. His voice came out harshly. "Stop it, Daine. You know if you do that I..."

"... won't be holding out for long?"

"I take it back!" He gasped, and she relented with a chuckle.

"I really do like our bed." She winked at him, clearly enjoying his breathlessness, and started unlacing his shirt. Her voice became chatty, practical. "But I know you university types like things all done proper before you believe they're true. Are you convinced yet, my love?"

"Not even close." He returned. Daine's smile widened, and she tugged his shirt off so she could run her hand along his chest. When she lowered her head and kissed his exposed shoulder-blade he made a very satisfactory sound of pleasure, which seemed to pool in the woman's stomach and then spread languidly through her veins like molten fire.

"Then," she murmured, "I guess I should make my second argument."

888

888