Attendant Hearts

"Someone watched me." The graveness of her tone did not destroy the comfort that her mundane task provided. Talitha added more flour to the surface of a sturdy wooden table, and continued to knead a mound of dough.

"When have you sensed the intrusion?" Shaktar'ri asked, cracking eggs. The white tiger carefully separated out the yolks, and put them in a wide bowl.

"At night," the mystic replied, "when I am sitting by the fire, and breast feeding Ri."

She glanced at the male who shared baking duty with her, a late afternoon ritual that would ensure fresh bread for the morning meals. It was good that he had worn a covering over his blue robe, for he had managed to attract flour like a magnet. The brown tunic and trousers that she had donned kept her too warm in the stone kitchen, which possessed a large brick oven.

Shaktar'ri glanced at the alert tiger cub who rested in a large basket near the table, her little hands playfully batting the air. "Is that what you have finally named your daughter? Does Lord Tygra know?" he casually asked, setting his hands on his hips, and marking his waist with flour.

Talitha thought with irritation, Why do males always divert the topic at hand?

Shaktar'ri's aquamarine eyes flickered with the recognition that he had inadvertently changed the course of the conversation. "I did not mean--"

"You have flour on your nose," she interrupted, and tossed him a small towel. "And other spots."

"Have you challenged the intruder?" he inquired further, as he dusted the flour off of his fur and clothing. He flung the towel over his shoulder like a disgruntled chef, and continued to work.

"Not yet," she said, returning to the original subject. "

Shaktar'ri began combining various spices in the bowl with the yolks. "Cenatua watches you," he said suddenly with conviction.

Stunned, the white tigress ceased her work. "Why her, Shaktar'ri?"

He shrugged. "Who else would have the power to spy upon you?"

"Mumm-Ra. Meryt. Maybe even from her crystal tree, Cheetara. After all, I am raising her cubs with my own."

"Well, with Mumm-Ra, you would feel the touch of his evil. The others would respect your privacy. But Cenatua--"

"Follows her own path."

"Perhaps you should speak with Tir'shan. He is the new Guardian's father."

She must have exuded uncertainty because he marked her reaction with a tilt of his shaggy head. He added, "You have not spoken to Tir'shan lately. Are you angry with the Ri'sar'ri?"

"I came out of the healing he performed with forgiveness for both him and my mate."

"But--"

"Everyone is still adjusting, Shaktar'ri. Even my mate still treads carefully around me."

"Did you not--"

"We did. But not since."

"The aftereffects of our circle were quite...unique. It has only been seven suns since then. Give Lord Tygra some time.

"Like I have given him for the naming of our cub."

Shaktar'ri chuckled. "Well, there, it seems, you may have won." He moved the bowl aside. His tone became serious. "You are rightly vexed with the gossip," he declared.

He had seen through her so easily. She nodded. "There should be some distance between Tir'shan and me to quiet the nasty tongues. I do not wish to add to his distress."

"Our Ri'sar'ri is resilient, but his heart is very open. The sooner you can reestablish your friendship, the better he will feel."

"And what of Ayasha's feelings?"

"Why not ask his mate, little one? She has the wisdom of a millennium behind her."

Talitha flung a piece of dough at the white tiger, more annoyed with his reference to her height, than with his suggestion.

Shaktar'ri laughed, and set his hand affectionately upon her shoulder.

She felt his warmth and strength through the cloth. Unexpectedly, the male dropped to the floor as if shocked. Talitha knelt by his side.

"Don't touch me!" he snarled.

"What did you see?" she asked, siting back on her legs, and acceding to his wishes.

"You have suffered much," he said. He stood, not offering his hand to Talitha. With agitation, he flung the flour covered towel into an open wicker bin.

The petite tigress rose. "Should I summon Sri'rin?" she asked tentatively.

"No," he said firmly. "He frets too much about me." Shaktar'ri grabbed a wooden whisk, and made a half-hearted attempt at mixing. "And I him."

"You absorb and heal trauma."

"As does he."

"But differently."

Shaktar'ri set the whisk aside in an empty bowl. "I heal the trauma a person brings from past lives, and he from the current one."

"You are both effective," Talitha remarked, hoping to keep the male talking to reveal what he had seen. "Sri'rin helped me make some peace with what I have experienced on this world. I attempted to convince Tygra to take healing with him, but he refused."

"Some people embrace their pain like a badge of honor."

"But why have I now caused you distress, Shaktar'ri? You touched me during Tir'shan's circle without harm."

The mystic absently drew symbols in the flour that coated the table. "It must be difficult to be attuned to the world, " he said mysteriously. He lifted a clean towel that covered another bowl, and appraised the rising dough. When he could delay his answer no longer, he said, "I was effected because, only moments ago, she had the audacity to watch us, but now she has gone."

"Cenatua?"

The male nodded. "It was her past life that I saw when we touched."

She knew the answer to the question before she voiced it. "Is she Am'mril?"

A frown marred his pleasant features. His changeable eyes darkened. Shaktar'ri extended his right hand. The violet light of a priest of Mrísena danced over his palm. "You have benefitted from Sri'rin's touch. You are strong enough to see, but you must brace yourself if you wish to know the truth."

The room had become inexplicably colder. She knew the metallic taste in her mouth to be that of fear. Before she could convince herself to retreat, Talitha grabbed the white tiger's hand.

Her immobilized body lay on a frigid stone slab. A leering reptilian face filled her vision. The brilliant knife flashed. Death had come, but not to her. Blackness.

Talitha slowly opened her eyes. She rested against a male whose broad chest carried the unusual scent of cinnamon. "Tygra," she purred.

"He is probably racing here as we speak."

Talitha jumped off the male upon whose lap she had sat, and spun about. Shaktar'ri regarded her with concern. "Do you understand what you have been shown?" he asked. His anguished expression indicated that he had suffered his share of hurt from the vision he had provided. Fatigued, he leaned back on the large chair set near the table, and the basket that held her daughter.

"How long was I--"

"Not long at all, but you did call out before you fainted. Your mate may have sensed your distress despite my protective shielding." He waved his hand. "Thank Mrísena, we are still alone, and have not alerted the entire mystic household."

That her brain did not pound with agitation made her realize that her mind-link with the architect had remained silent. "Not a word to him, please," she requested. "It is enough that I know the truth for now." Even if it fills me with anxiety, she thought. I took comfort in knowing that Am'mril finally went with peace into the silence after her ghostly encounter with Tygra and me. Now my heart is unfortunately burdened once more because my deceased daughter has reincarnated as someone we might fear. Is Third Earth really a Mutant hell that I have been thrown into, and I am merely unaware of that fact? she wondered sadly.

"I do not know what you intend to do with this knowledge, Talitha," Shaktar'ri said. I can only caution you. Cenatua may have seen what we have, but may not yet fully understand the vision. What Am'mril came back to this life to accomplish as Cenatua, I cannot even begin to fathom. But trust me, it must relate to what you have both suffered at the hands of Slythe and Mumm-Ra. Cenatua must have sensed a connection between you, and wondered what it was. That is why she has watched you."

Footfalls sounded from the hall beyond the kitchen. "Let's get back to work," Shaktar'ri said.

"Seems like Talitha is already working hard, while you laze comfortably on your firm buttocks, Shaktar'ri, " Sri'rin observed as he entered the room. If his companion had overheard any of their conversation, he gave no sign. The handsome Thunderan took an apron off a hook on the door to protect his blue robe. He appraised his colleagues' progress like a lord his fields. Shaking his head, the white tiger snorted, "What mischief have you two gotten into today?"

*****

After the unwelcome revelation, all Talitha desired was to return home. Her daughter's needs had provided the perfect excuse to leave a protesting Sri'rin to finish baking duty alone. Looking for his own reprieve from work, Shaktar'ri had insisted on safely escorting her. As they traveled back to the city, her cub had slept in the sling that she had wrapped around her body. For a time both had relaxed at the mystic annex, enjoying a light meal and more pleasant conversation. She had left her companion after the sun had set. Talitha suspected that with her departure, Shaktar'ri would sneak back out, and let the city ameliorate his own sorrows with diversion.

The white tigress slowly unlocked the recently repaired front door of her cottage, glad to get out of the cold night air. Only firelight illuminated the main room. By the hearth, the Chi'ris'rin of those of mixed race dozed on an ugly wooden chair, which had witnessed many unsettled nights. Several sets of papers lay at his feet. His reading glasses had slid almost off his nose. Sprawled as he was, it would take little effort for his loose night robe to part, and reveal his charms.

Subduing a great temptation to tickle him, Talitha darted past Tygra. She peaked into the first bedroom on the lower floor. Both Altair and Marcus slept soundly on their beds. Her foster sons had disarrayed their blankets by sprawling. Although the coals from the brazier had kept the room warm, she carefully adjusted their covers. Her tending did not disturb them, as she studied each one in turn. How time had fled. It was hard to believe that Cheetara's cubs would soon turn three Third Earth years as the summer solstice neared. It seemed that with each sun they had grown more fiercely independent. Their personalties increasingly matched their respective fathers. Altair was quiet in nature, while Marcus was more gregarious. She recalled that Tygra had promised to bathe the pair before putting them to bed. No matter their dispositions, she guessed that together the twins had succeeded in exhausting themselves and her lord. She envisioned the chaotic scene of water and wailing with insubordinate approval.

The mystic moved to the second room reserved for Velma. She knocked softly, but received no reply. The snarfria apparently had gone for the evening. Talitha smiled. Oz'burt must be happy tonight, she decided, marvelling at the unanticipated affection that had grown between the two snarfs over recent months, even though they differed greatly in age.

Returning to the main room, she removed her heavy cloak, and hung it in the front closet. She extracted her daughter from the sling. To her surprise the little one studied her with her father's intensity. She whispered, "One of these days, Ri, you will start spouting Thunderan philosophy, for surely you are Tygra's daughter." Ri rewarded her with a gummy smile. She placed her in the cradle by the second chair near the hearth, and watched her kick her legs with delight. Well, she will be awake now for awhile, Talitha thought with resignation. I might as well be productive. Treading softly, she gathered the loose pages by her lord's big feet. Sitting down on her cushioned chair, she sifted through the documents, and put them in order. She had read half of the reports on clan matters before the fur on the back of her neck suddenly rose. She set the papers down on a stand.

Someone watched. She had no desire to wake her lord, or frighten her cub. On the chance that it might work, she sent her challenge into the shadows by telepathy. *Show yourself, Tir'shan's daughter!*

Behind her lord's chair, a tall white tigress with a long black mane suddenly appeared out of nothingness, her dark eyes piqued. She floated forward until she loomed over the mystic in intimidation. Her green robes rustled in a non-existent breeze. *What do want that you haunt me?* Talitha asked firmly, although her heart pounded in fright.

The answer struck Talitha's mind harshly. *I do not know, mystic. But I will discover it!*

Her response came before the mystic could stop it. *Do not threaten me, Am'mril!* she rebuked in self-defense.

The Guardian's eyes widened in unanticipated horror. The memory of what she had suffered as Am'mril finally registered. She drifted back to Tygra's side. Anguish etching her beautiful face, she reached toward the sleeping Thunderan. Talitha leapt up. "Don't you dare touch him!" she shouted.

Jolted from sleep, Tygra started, his glasses flying off his nose. "What in the seven hells!" the architect exclaimed. Cenatua had faded back into nothingness before he had finished speaking. "Talitha?" he asked with the disorientation of the newly awakened. His dark amber eyes quickly scanned the room. "What's wrong?"

He had not noticed their uninvited guest. Talitha lied, "You had a bad dream, that is all, my lord."

Tygra grimaced with fleeting suspicion. He retrieved his glasses, and inspected them for damage before setting them on the stand. His brain finally alert, he asked gruffly, "What time is it?"

"Let's just say that it is late, Tygra."

He ran his hand through his mane, and muttered, "Some protector I am that I sleep through my mate's return."

"I was very quiet," she said meekly. Cooing came from the cradle. "Even Ri agrees with me."

"Ri?"

How had she let herself slip. Perhaps he would not take notice of the name. "Don't you have an early meeting with Lion-o?" she quickly countered, hoping that he would take no further notice of her revelation. "You should go up to bed."

"But I have noticed," he said with a smirk.

Still reading my thoughts by my face. How does he do it so much better than I!

Standing before her, he gently tapped her brow. "That little furrow tells me so much."

Time stopped, then shot back into the past. A warm day. Sitting on the steps of Cats' Lair. Newly arrived to Third Earth. Alone after the death of Servalla. Still in some shock, but comforted by his warm presence. He had spoken to her in a similar way, even inadvertently making a joke. "Nothing mystical about that," she whispered in remembrance. I was so innocent. Between then and now, so much has been lost. And now with Am'mril reborn.... She buried her face in her hands. For the first time in many suns, she wept.

"Names of all the gods," Tygra said, pulling her off the chair, and embracing her. "How I have caused you to suffer."

"Yes!" she answered between muffled sobs. Her response made him pull back, his eyes blinking in astonishment. She could not abide his distressed look, for she sympathized with all he had suffered in his grief. She wrapped her arms tightly around his waist, and leaned against his torso, his strong heartbeat comforting her with its sure rhythm. No matter what she had endured, and the truth of what she had proclaimed, by his side was where she belonged. That was simply the way of this life.

Ri gave a little cry. "She wants the attention of her mother," Tygra remarked. They parted as Talitha turned to the cradle. She retrieved her squirming daughter, and offered her breast. The cub was not hungry. Her linen diaper was dry. Ri yawned, then quieted, satisfied.

"I guess she just wanted to be held." Talitha let the implication hang between them. She added, "It has been a long day, Tygra. I am going upstairs to bed. Are you following?"

The architect considered the neatly ordered papers, but nodded in ascent. He opened his arms, and she handed him his daughter. Talitha lit a tall beeswax candle. Together they walked up the staircase to their bedroom. Tygra settled his daughter in her crib, making sure she was adequately covered. Shivering slightly Talitha stirred the coals in the brazier that heated the room. She said as she set her pewter candlestick down on a nightstand, "I think we will need another blanket on our bed, Tygra. These coals are done."

"Will I do instead?" he asked. He had disrobed. In the candle light, he cast tall flickering shadows that danced about the room in seductive invitation.

All she had wanted for seven suns was to be asked, but her voice locked in her throat as she drank in the sight of him, and her desire rose.

Tygra regarded her quizzically, unsure of his next move. Be bold, my lord, she prayed, still unnerved by her recent difficulties. He set his left hand on the back of her neck, the tips of his claws tracing small circles. She allowed him to tease her shoulder with kisses. He methodically undressed her. She rose up into the air, lifted by his strong arms, as if she possessed only the weight of a feather. He took her to bed, and favored her pleasure points for some time, until she finally found her voice in the whisper of his name.

Deep her went into her, and slow did he love her, until she felt sure that her endurance would break before his. They relaxed into each other, having no barrier between their souls. Release catapulted them back into a separate present as they unsuccessfully struggled to contain their roars.

Ri began to cry. Some much for a gauzy afterglow, Talitha thought, unhappy about ending the delightful respite she had found. She extricated herself from her panting mate, then tended to her daughter. Tygra sped downstairs.

Talitha settled on a chair. This time her daughter did not refused the breast, and ate greedily. She glanced at her returning lord. Tygra smiled. "Those two cubs could sleep through anything," he said with a laugh.

As he sat on the edge of the bed, he watched her feed his daughter, his expression cryptic. "Ri," he suddenly stated flatly. "A short name indeed."

He had not forgotten her earlier slip. "Ri'shan'a," she answered tersely. "Is that long enough for you." From his frown, she knew he did not like the name which suggested dawn breaking over a mountain.

"It is good that she favors me, and not you, in coloration," he said with annoyance.

His observation struck a mark she had not seen. She had honestly not made the connection to Tir'shan's name that people with too much idleness might misconstrue. "I never thought--"

"It is a perfectly suitable name, as she was born with the dawn."

"But the implication--"

"Is false."

"I am sorry."

"There is no need for an apology," he huffed.

"By red tiger custom, the honor of naming the firstborn falls to you, her father."

A shadow not caused by the wavering flame of the candle crossed his face. "I was not there to see her eyes open. The honor falls to you."

Talitha sighed in weariness. It was too late to outmatch his stubbornness or go over his misbehavior, but exasperated by the finality of his tone, she said, "By your logic, it is my father, Casaphi, who should have the honor of naming her, but I do not trust his whims on such matters."

"Then maybe we should ask our daughter," he suggested. "What think you, tiny Ri'shan'a?" The cub burped heartily, her feeding ended. "She seems unimpressed."

Talitha stroked the cub's face delicately, still amazed that she had come from her into this life. "My father actually likes the name. He also heard me talking to her," she said with hesitation, the thought of lost Am'mril rising unbidden to mind. Will I ever be able to tell him what has transpired with Cenatua!

"Then, Ri'shan'a it will be," Tygra replied, not marking her distress, for she had learned too well as a mystic to conceal her feelings.

"Sssh!"

"Ah."

"She has gone to sleep." Talitha rearranged her daughter in the crib, then stepped back to admire her once more, although the ache in her heart was still present.

Taking advantage of her distraction, Tygra turned her around. In an instant she was over his shoulder. He lowered her onto the bed. Settling beside her, he flung the covers over both of them.

She sprawled across his chest, ready for the healing distraction of another bout of love. Ignoring the danger of waking their cubs, her lord eagerly complied.

*****

Talitha glanced around the communal dining room of the Halls of Healing, which was packed to capacity with mystics and guests. The windows rattled with the wind and the rain of a fierce storm. Reflecting upon an old Berbil expression, she thought, The first day of the third month has truly come in with the roar of a lion! If only we could have waited until summer for this naming ceremony for our cubs. Then we could have celebrated outside where we would have room to breathe! The warmth of the people and the blaze in the great fireplace made her increasingly drowsy. She stifled a yawn, not wishing to insult any of the exalted Thunderans whom Tygra, as a Chi'ris'rin, had selected for formal alliances.

In deference to custom, Talitha stood off to one side with her kin, away from the officials who stood on a makeshift dais of wood. Casaphi nudged her shoulder. Her father murmured, "Gods have mercy, we are finally ready to begin."

"Thanks be to Mrísena," she answered conspiratorially as she watched her mother discreetly kick her father. Her brother, Dabir, held hands with her young sister, who smiled serenely, unperturbed by the heat or the crowd. She had not seen Dagen, her roaming brother, in many months.

A daunting task now loomed. Tygra and his cubs dressed in their best robes approached the dignitaries who were garbed in equal sartorial splendor. As she watched each measured step, it pleased her that her foster sons behaved, and managed not to trip over their clothing. Altair wore historian green braided with gold. Marcus wore warrior red bordered in black. Tygra was resplendent in his preferred black and gold. He held their sweetly sleeping daughter, who was swaddled in a blue blanket.

A lion priest of Savar called out, "Marcus, son of Lord Panthro, come forth!" The black panther cub stepped fearlessly up to the priest as if he had been doing it all his young life. The lion tied a red band of cloth around his head. He gave him an affectionate tap on his wild blonde mane spotted with black, his mother's gift. Marcus swaggered back to his place by Tygra. She could not help but see Panthro in his son's bravado.

Makani, the leader of the historians, called out, "Altair, son of Lord Tygra, come forth!" The tiger cub moved with surprising grace. He bowed his head slightly to make it easier for Tygra's cousin to tie the green headband. She pulled back, and stared down her long nose at the cub whose gaze was unflinching. When she finally nodded, he bowed. He returned to his place by his father, who she thought would explode with pride at his son's lordly refinement.

Tygra finally approached the dais, and bowed before Te'sara and Sri'rin, who equally represented the mystic council. If Tir'shan had missed his brief reign as the leader of the mystics, he did not show it. In unnecessary repentance, he had removed himself completely from the council. With northern stubbornness, he had ignored the protests of the other two members. They had reconsidered his motives for his fight with Tygra, and had forgiven him his actions. On the opposite side of the chamber, the giant watched the spectacle with Ayasha by his side. Surprisingly, the black woman studied him with sadness. Oblivious to her emotion, Tir'shan tenderly shifted the cub he carried. His daughter, Ameera, leaned against her father's chest, her pale violet eyes struggling against sleep.

Tygra presented his daughter. After gestures of blessing, the mystics parted, and Lion-o, Lord of all Thunderans, came forward, a magnificent sight in layered robes of yellow. A narrow circlet of gold formed the only mark of his kingship. He smiled, mischief dancing across his lips. Tygra's eyes narrowed slightly in anticipation of trouble.

Lion-o boomed, "Chi'ris'rin Tygra, son of Lord Siberan of the Silver Waters clan, where is your tenira that she is not here before me?

Because life and its uncertainties had intervened, they had never formally vowed themselves to each other. Tygra turned toward her. Cradling Ri'shan'a in his right arm, he offered his left hand, and said, "Lady Talitha, please attend me."

If she answered his summons, there would no longer be any doubt of their fidelity. From the day her spacecraft had landed on Third Earth, her path had been clear, no matter how she or her lord had attempted to obscure it.

"My Lord Tygra," she said in loving surrender. Studying his face, she could never remember him having a wider smile. Talitha moved forward past many mystics similarly attired in robes of blue. She accepted Tygra's hand.

Lion-o gave a satisfied chuckle having essentially sanctified their vow through royal decree. He said to them both, "Who now comes to serve the Lord of Thundera and his people."

Not yet three moons old, and already called to service. Poor Ri. Talitha held Tygra's gaze. So many emotions swam in those amber depths that she thought he would remain silent. She squeezed his hand in commiseration. He took a deep breath to steady himself. Love poured back and forth over their mind-link. Together they said, "Ri'shan'a."

The wind howled. In her wounded heart, Talitha knew that Cenatua still watched.