The Eighth Court (The Courts of the Feyr - By Mike Shevdon Page 0,74

it do you,” said Kareesh. “Like all guard dogs, he has his limits.”

“What are you doing here, Kareesh?” asked Teoth. “If there is something you wish to discuss, I will hear it, but not now. Perhaps it would be better if I should come to you. You’re not as young as you were.”

“I don’t need you to count my teeth,” said Kareesh, “and I came to speak with you assembled. I do not move these old bones lightly or without reason.”

“Your reason may be what you left behind,” said Altair.

She turned her black almond eyes on him and stared. In the end it was he who looked away. “What has been long apparent to me,” she said, “has finally become your concern. We are dying.” She looked slowly around the ring of faces.

“Do you say that from foresight, or deduction?” asked Kimlesh.

“Both,” said Kareesh. “We have played a trick on ourselves, and now it tricks us in return.”

“If this is another one of your bids to mingle the bloodlines of the courts, Kareesh, you can save your breath,” said Krane. “There is none other that will live in abomination as you and Gramawl do.”

“It is not an abomination to love another,” she said. “No matter which court they are from. Sadly, it was too late for us, but there may be others who still have time.”

“None of the others wish to indulge in your… practices,” said Altair. “They prefer to remain pure.”

“Then they prefer extinction,” said Kareesh with bitterness. “Deefnir is the last, Altair. There will be no more after him.”

“You cannot know that,” said Altair.

“Do not tell me what I cannot know,” said Kareesh. “You haven’t seen it. Would you like to?” Kareesh stretched out her hand, but Altair shook his head, scowling at her.

“Your problem,” said Krane, “is that you want everyone to be like you. You cannot conceive of a life unlike your own.”

“No,” said Kareesh. “The problem is that I cannot conceive at all. Neither can you. Nor can they.” She gestured to the wider world. “We have fostered our power down the millennia, using the courts to breed our bloodlines pure but bleeding them dry in the process. There will be no more children.”

“The answer is no,” said Barthia.

“Unless…” said Kareesh, “there is another way.”

“Another way?” asked Kimlesh, leaning forward.

“Each of you knows that there have been occasions… incidents… where the Feyre have mixed their bloodlines with humanity.”

“Not in my court,” said Altair.

Kareesh nodded. “With the exception of Altair’s court then, but the fact remains – the union between humanity and the Feyre is fertile.”

“What are you suggesting?” asked Teoth.

“The children of these unions are… unpredictable. Fate rolls her dice and the child may inherit from either parent. Some are more fey than others.”

“That’s true,” said Yonna, “but they are not fey. They are the gifted ones, something in-between.”

“And yet there is no barrier against them. The Feyre have long had liaison with humanity. It has become accepted.”

“Not as a substitute for our own children,” said Teoth.

“There are those that have fostered such children into their homes and presented them to the courts as their heirs, there being none other,” she said. Kareesh turned her gaze on Teoth. “How many of your court have children these days, High Maker?” Now it was Teoth’s turn to avoid meeting that blank black stare. “When was it last you celebrated a naming day?” The question hung in the air between them. “Any of you?” she asked.

Altair drew himself up in his chair. “Are you suggesting that these children be accepted as fey? On what basis? In which court? Half the time no one even knows what court begat them. Would you have us start taking in waifs and strays and pretending they are ours?”

“Then mix the bloodlines between the courts. We have a last chance, a sliver of opportunity,” she pleaded. “Even now it may not be too late. There is reason for hope – we could snatch back our fecundity from the hand of fate and have children once again,” said Kareesh.

“Even were we to decree it,” said Teoth, “we cannot compel action which goes against the fundamental culture of our people. It’s a deeply held taboo, Kareesh, as you knew well when you crossed it. It has set you apart for centuries. Does anyone visit you now?”

She stood there in the candlelight, and did not refute it.

“Enough,” said Altair. “We have heard your plea and that is all we are obliged to do, even for you,