Dante moved closer and rested his hand on Regi's shoulder. “Parents suck,” he said in a tone so serious Regi understood he offered empathy. “Whatever you need, let me know. Should I stay here, or should I grab Vk and head back to the ship?”
Part of him did want to get Dante out of the building before he could witness an uncomfortable confrontation. Regi knew full well he lacked logic when it came to his mother. Even his fathers could trigger his frustration when they attempted to excuse her every fault. Regi still remembered when he had been seven or eight years old and had been preparing for the harvest season festival. All four of them had dressed in their most outlandish harvest colors—golds and purples and oranges and reds.
Regi had been bouncing about the house, so excited about the ceremony he couldn't sit still long enough for his da-father to attach the flower wreath around his shoulders. Harvest festival was the favorite of all children. It was the festival of excess with sweets and baked goods and preserves and singing and dancing late into the night.
And then his mother had come out of the back room dressed in clinical green with her midwifery bag in hand.
Regi had started crying and insisted that his mother had to go with him. There were other midwives who could attend a birth, but he had only one mother. At that age, he hadunderstood the lives of a mother and unborn child were worth infinitely more than sweet preserves, and yet, he had not been able to stop. All he could remember from that entire harvest season festival had been the tears and his fathers searching for some toy or activity or treat that would replace his missing mother. And with each failure, they had grown more short-tempered.
He and his mother had such a history between them that Regi did not trust himself to be logical even after all these years, and he yearned to keep Dante clear of any conflict. Regi was also weak, and he did not wish to see his mother without at least one member of his crew at his back.
Dante waited, those oddly colored and intense eyes of his gazing steadily at Regi. “Can you come?” Regi asked.
“Absolutely,” Dante agreed, showing his teeth in a strange huuman gesture of support. Regi found it comforting. Strange, given that showing teeth was considered a universal threat.
Chapter Seven
Regi was not surprised to see his mother at the front of the cavernous room where the exalteds were meeting, but seeing her was still a shock. She was older than the version that lived in his memory. Her black stripes were no longer delineated but instead the edges were graying with age.
She took two steps toward him before stopping near the waterfall of blue crystals darkened by shadows because no issues had been presented for a vote. She turned her attention to Gimi a’Onidba. “I always welcome a conference where we have an exalted of the Lady of logic among us,” she said, her warm voice inviting confidence.
Gimi raised her thumbs to her temples for a moment. “I am pleased to meet the great Minait a’Otutha.”
Minait smiled, her attention on Gimi even as her gaze flicked toward Regi. “I deserve no more praise than any other Kowri charged with understanding the whims of the gods.” She brought her own thumbs to her temples.
“You are too modest. There are few in the Empire who have served as long as you.” As Gimi spoke, the other exalteds gathered in corners kept glancing over. Nawr sat in a cluster of older exalteds who perched on low stools, but for once Bekdi wasn’t glaring at him. He focused his ire on Gimi and Regi’s mother. With her arrival, the balance of power had shifted.
Regi’s mother’s smile grew more tense before her expression smoothed again. “I am not as interesting as others.” She lookedat Regi and then at Dante. Dante inched closer to Regi, his heat soaking into Regi’s arm.
“My son has been brought home by the gods.” She did not address the presence of an outsider in this temple room where only those who spoke for the gods were allowed. Most Kowri would never see this room where exalted had their most important debates and voted on the will of the gods.
Gimi inclined her head in Regi’s direction. “The Lady Divashi favors him, and he brings more dilemmas than even my god can sort.”
Regi expected his mother to make a snide comment about how Regi had always excelled at making life difficult. Given how they had parted ways, her silence was more kindness than Regi had expected from her.
“Mother,” he said, ignoring the slight guttural tone that slipped out at the end of the word. Her eyes grew larger at his unintended noise of distress. Regi rushed to cover his blunder. “I wish to introduce Dante. He is an exalted although there is some debate over whether it would be better to address him as Dante a’Texas or Dante a’Divashi.” Regi should feel guilty about using Dante to distract his mother, but desperation led to questionable choices.
Regi’s mother studied Dante far more intently than Regi was comfortable with. “I never expected our gods to notice an outsider.”
In the corner, Bekdi a’Gavd whispered to Dwill a’Itzpach, no doubt expressing his own complaints. Even if every other exalted in every temple accepted that Divashi guided Dante’s hand, Bekdi would still doubt.
“I’m mighty grateful Lady Divashi noticed me,” Dante offered a distorted huuman smile that highlighted his teeth. His mother recoiled as though Dante was about to bite. Dantecontinued, “As I understand it, without divine assistance, dops can be dangerous.”
Regi's mother flicked her gaze toward Peaches who was perched on Dante's shoulder. Dante began stroking Peaches, who chirped and chittered at him, clinging to his collar with tiny pink hands. Had Regi’s mother done that with her dafs corona, Regi would have assumed her actions were a ploy intended to remind others that she had the attention of a dangerous god. Dante was not the type to play those games, though. Regi rested his hand on Dante’s back, offering support.
“Perhaps we can focus on the issue at hand,” Gimi suggested.
“Of course.” Minait turned to the rest of the room.
“Let us speak concisely,” said Bekdi a’Gavd. “We allowed an outsider into our sacred space, and now we have outsiders attacking our technicians and avoiding justice.”
Gimi moved to a spot near Nawr. The elderly Kowri had never said he supported Regi, but he had ensured that Regi’s detractors never dominated the debates at the cold weather temple. Regi could only hope that his mother would continue that fair treatment now that she served as senior exalted.
“Should we sit?” Dante whispered.
“To do so signals we are incapable of standing for the length of the debate,” Regi whispered back. The hair above Dante’s eyes rose.
“Regi a’Divashi, I would hear the story of how your goddess found you,” his mother proclaimed.
